Nightmare
by nomdeplume1313
Summary: After Liore, Ed vanished. Now as he fights the fuhrer, Roy discovers something he never thought he could see in his worst imaginings. spoilers for much of the end of the series.
1. Chapter 1

**Nightmare **

**_Chapter 1_**

He was being ripped apart from the inside. The quick, pistoning movements of his captor's hips causing only pain as he was taken once again, violated one more time. He knew not to scream or cry, because making any sound that showed his pain would only earn more pain for it. Even when his jailer and tormenter was in a good mood, the sounds wouldn't go unnoticed, unremarked, or unpunished. Those whimpers and shouts would be means by which he could taunt the prisoner, and then justification for why he continued to hurt him.

When the man finally came, not inside, but withdrawing in order to cover and further degrade his victim, he chuckled as he put himself back in his pants.

"Well, Pet," the voice that could be so deceptively kind in the prisoner's previous live, said, "it seems a rat has entered Central and I have need to remove it. Don't worry, though. As soon as I dispatch with him," A hand roughly grabbed matted hair and jerked the younger man's head upward. "you and I can celebrate. Doesn't that make you happy?"

He didn't answer. Either answer meant pain. At least silence felt closer to the truth.

The hand pulled harder on the matted hair. "I said 'Doesn't that make you happy?'"

"Y-yes."

"What was that?"

"Yes, Fuhrer, Sir."

"Try again."

"Yes, M-master."

"Good pet."

0o0o0o0

Roy had knocked the guards unconscious and was now walking through the fuhrer's house. He would kill the bastard, but not before he found out if he knew anything about Fullmetal's disappearance.

"Good pet," he heard the fuhrer say, his voice far more condescending than it had been even when he'd obviously realized the new Brigadier General's loyalties did not lie with him.

When the fuhrer emerged from the dark basement, Roy was already waiting, hand poised to snap.

"Are you telling me I'm not your only guest?" he asked.

"Guest would imply I invited you, Mustang."

"And what does 'pet' imply?" Roy asked, hand itching to hurt the man before him. "Where is Fullmetal?"

"He is not your concern anymore. I've already marked him as AWOL and to be killed on sight."

"Then who's downstairs?"

In a move so quick, Roy nearly missed it coming altogether, Bradley drew his sword and was lunging at the younger man. Asking questions would get Roy nowhere, and he already knew there was a prisoner of some kind downstairs. So rather than delaying the inevitable, he snapped his poised fingers.

0o0o0o0

They were trying to mess with him again. It was probably Envy upstairs again staging another "rescue." Every few days, Envy would appear as Mustang or Al, even Havoc once, and "save" him. Punishments would only be worse for the attempt to escape. It didn't even matter to the fuhrer that Envy had been forced to drag the unwilling rescuee from the basement dungeon.

His master said that because he didn't fight not to go, it was his fault.

That was when the punishments got worse. Torture and pain worse than when he was used as a sex toy were the norm when the fuhrer was reprimanding him for disobedience. His master didn't like when he was willful, hopeful.

0o0o0o0

Roy watched in horror as the fuhrer was willing to kill his own son. As though the sight of such injustice and monstrosity gave him new strength, Roy pulled the sword lodged in his left shoulder out, and began to attack the homunculus. The thing in the bag, that was important. Thinking back to what Al had told him about these monsters, Roy had an inkling to know what to expect. The way that the fuhrer had reacted to the bag the little boy had carried in seemed to point to it being some form of remains of the human whose form he held.

Roy snapped his fingers, once again incinerating the fuhrer.

"Haven't you learned yet that your fire attacks are futile?" A flaming body stepped from the fire, but by then, Roy had ducked down, grabbing the bag and retrieving the skull. Again, he snapped his fingers, grabbed the skull without his glove.

"What are you doing?" the fuhrer said.

"You are a homunculus, a created human. You see, by taking Ed away, and I know it's what you did, you son of a bitch, Al latched onto me. He told me everything. Everything about you, everything about the homunculi. Taking away his brother, he trusted me with that information, and do you know what he's doing right now while you're fighting me?"

Roy snapped the still-gloved hand again. "Al and his father are fighting your precious master. Funny, really, you're calling someone your pet, when you're nothing more than Dante's own pet creation. Tell me, does a pet like you cry when your master dies?"

"You think a rotten old man and a child can defeat her?"

The Flame Alchemist snapped again. "I'm sure of it," Roy said, dabbing a hand into his own blood to draw a modified fire alchemy symbol on his right hand. "I have faith in the Elric brothers. Always have."

Then, he placed his left hand to the back of his right and incinerated the fuhrer through his skull. He did it repeatedly, probably more times than was necessary to destroy the homunculus. He looked to the son, wondering if he should try to carry the boy out of the house, but remembered that there was someone or something in the basement. A part of Roy feared who it might be, but tried not to dwell on it, not until he could see. In pain, he struggled to make his way to the basement door where he'd first confronted the fuhrer.

0o0o0o0

They were going to very elaborate lengths for this hoax, the prisoner thought. Normally, Envy just rushed in, looking like the hero to "save" the broken man. Never had there been this much commotion, or the distinct feeling of heat from intense flames. Dull eyes tried to find the door in the disorienting darkness, with no success. He could hardly tell where he was at the moment.

Pride, as Envy had called him, had perfect vision, could see in this pitch dark room. The once keen eyes of the captive could never have managed more than brief fumbling in the near absolute darkness.

It was growing warmer in his prison, and if this building really was on fire, it would have been a welcome relief. Death would have been greeted with arms wide open.

Just as long as no one ever came down to him again, not Envy to torture him, not Pride to rape him, not Sloth to mock him. He wanted never to be seen again, to be nothing. Rescue was impossible, and he knew it; death was all that was left.

Unfortunately, the door opened again, the building did appear to be on fire, if the blinding red and orange light was anything to go by. Creating a shadow on the flames was a figure, one Ed remembered, but didn't dare believe.

"Ed?" the figure said, sounding almost ill. Envy's acting was improving.

0o0o0o0

Roy Mustang had prepared himself for many things in his life, but never, never had he thought he would have to brace himself for the discovery that night. Never to find Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist lying bloody and broken in more ways than one in a basement turned torture chamber. Both his automail limbs were gone, he had cuts all over his naked, prone body, and the two limbs that remained were not exactly at the proper angle.

"Fullmetal?" he asked, voice hoarse and unsure.

Two dead gold eyes, one a bit swollen looked up at him, barely acknowledging him. "Just go," the words came out mere scratching whispers.

Roy struggled down the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing at his right. "Fullmetal." He repeated. "Ed."

"Bastard…" he gasped, "doesn't call… me Ed."

"Yes, I do, when I'm trying to get your attention, Shrimp," Roy said, trying to sound as much like himself as he could, not to show the enormous pity and heartache at finding Ed like this.

"I'm not… going. Not… getting punished."

"Yeah, well, fight all you want, but I'm taking you back. Al will be able to concentrate a whole hell of a lot better on fighting Dante if he's not worried about you."

Ed looked up at Roy, blinking in an almost painful way as he did.

"Come on," Roy said, kneeling, not exactly easily, beside the teen. "Now."

Despite the shape his body seemed to be in, Ed was fighting him, struggling as Roy tried to pick him up.

"No!" Ed yelled out, his voice rasping. "Envy, I won't go! I won't have the fuh-Master hurt me because you take me again!"

Roy grabbed the swollen face. "I'm not Envy, Fullmetal!" Roy looked in the teen's eyes. "I'm not him! And the fuhrer, he's dead. I fried him. Used a skull his kid brought, one he killed his son over. And at the moment, this house is still on fire, and we need to get out of here." Roy pulled Ed into his arms and began to carry him through the room, being as careful as humanly possible, trying to ignore all the places from which the teen was bleeding. Ed continued to struggle until the effort became too much for him and he lay limp in Roy's arms.

At some point, Ed finally passed out completely, leaving Roy to navigate his way through the burning house without the teen's continued fighting. He ducked as flaming beams fell, did his best to dodge debris with Ed still firmly in his arms. The teen wasn't much of a struggle to carry, as he couldn't have eaten much since his disappearance and he no longer possessed his automail.

"I wish I could kill the bastard again, Ed," Roy said to the limp body in his arms. "What he did to you…" He couldn't finish the thought, let alone say it aloud.

Finally, he reached the door, kicking at the lock a few times, his strength failing him with every blow. Thankfully, the door gave way before his own willpower did, and Roy found himself on the front steps of the fuhrer's mansion, only half noticing in his pained state as a red eye broke the way through the darkness.

0o0o0o0

_"Fullmetal," a voice called to him. "Come on, we're getting you out of here!"_

_Ed opened his eyes to find Colonel Roy Mustang standing over him, arm outstretched. "Took you long enough, Bastard," Ed said, through his swollen eye._

_"They took your automail?" Mustang asked._

_"What's it look like?" Ed growled._

_"Fine, they took it, now come on," Mustang said, holding out an arm to Ed. "Let's get out of here before it's too late."_

_Ed leaned on the colonel as he stood, gasping in pain. Together they made it a few steps before he began to laugh. Then, he pushed Ed to the ground, the laughing only getting louder and joined by yet another voice._

_"What the hell was that for?" Ed asked, trying to hide in his fright. He suspected what this meant, but didn't want to dare imagine._

_"Really, Brat?" Mustang said, his grin a little too broad, his voice no longer what Ed remembered, at least when it came to Mustang._

_"You really thought you could escape from me, Pet?" the fuhrer said as he opened the door._

_"I'm not a damned pet you son of a bitch!"_

_"Oh, but you will be. We just need to break you, and my friend will help with that."_

_As the person who had once been Mustang transformed into Envy, Ed narrowed the eye that wasn't swollen in place. Envy looked surprised at the fuhrer's comment._

_"Pride, I may not be particular about appearances, but I'm not all that fond of men that way." Then he looked at Ed. "And I definitely don't do incest, no matter how fuzzy the line of relation is."_

_Ed began to try to pull himself away. He didn't understand why Envy had chosen the word incest, at the moment, his mind didn't want to contemplate the idea that a family relationship had to exist for incest. It was far too focused on the act itself, that the fuhrer was suggesting Ed be "broken."_

_"Well, then," the fuhrer said. "That leaves it to me, doesn't it Envy?"_

_"No!" Ed screamed. "Don't come near me you sick bastard! Stay the hell away!"_

_But Bradley approached, taking off his patch as he quickly walked over to Ed, nearly pouncing on him on the floor. The man's hands seemed to be everywhere, and if he was a homunculus as Al had said, then it was little wonder he was able to manage an otherwise inhuman feet. Ed's clothes were little more than rags at the moment, and it took nothing for the man to overpower the weakened alchemist._

_"Really, I would have thought that in this basement with its array to prevent your alchemy would have done something about that nasty spirit of yours. Apparently, I was wrong." Ed tried to squirm away, but swiftly, the man managed to grab hold the remaining wrist to hold it above his head, pin the right leg with his left, and then grab Ed's face to look directly into his own. The teen gasped when he saw the orobouros for himself placed at the center of the larger man's eye. He hadn't doubted Al, but something about seeing it for himself made him fear more than when he'd had the lingering thought there might be some humanity to the man holding him captive._

_"Call me Pride," the fuhrer said. "Or better yet, master."_

_"The hell I will!" Ed spat in the older man's face._

_"Wrong answer," Pride said. He punched Ed's jaw hard enough it nearly cracked. Then that same hand moved to his belt, began unzipping the fly. Ed struggled beneath him. Never before had he expected to find a man who was so much stronger than he was, even in this state he was in. Flashes of Barry the Chopper came to mind, being so helpless at that moment to save Winry. And now, he was helpless to save himself as the man pulled his member from his pants._

_"Stop!" Ed screamed "Help!"_

_"Help me!" Envy mocked. "No one's going to help you, Brat. Don't you get it?" He walked to the steps. "I'm heading out," he said. "Like I said, I don't go for this sort of thing. Torture him to your heart's content, but this isn't the type of voyeurism that does much for me."_

_Envy left them alone, and for the first time in his life, Ed was sad to see him go._

_"No!" he screamed, but he could feel Pride picking him up, giving him no preparation as he lined himself up to Ed's opening and thrust inside hard and fast. Ed cried; he screamed. It did no good._

_This man had taken his virginity in the cruelest way possible, and Ed just wanted to die. Never in his life had he wanted to die, but he did today. What good could he possibly be to Al now? How worthless must he be that he couldn't manage to fight off this man? Why had he thought he was worthy of the respect that people had given him as the "people's alchemist." He couldn't even manage to defend himself, let alone protect the people who needed it. And even that bastard who'd aligned himself with Ed for his own career. What good was a broken alchemist—and that's what he would be after much of this—when you're on your way to the top in order to change the world._

_Ed was bleeding, his body was being ripped apart, and the man hovering over him was laughing, even as he held up the teen's broken body. He was enjoying it._

_When the larger man finally came, that was the worst part, the sensation of the homunculus's seed in his bowls, and of course on his back. The fuhrer hadn't seen it humiliating enough just to come inside of Ed. He'd withdrawn halfway through to cover the tan skin with the white substance as well._

0o0o0o0

Ed was whimpering when Al came into the hospital room. The younger teen had just been given a clean bill of health for his new, nineteen-year-old body. There were so many things he wanted to explore, but his brother at the moment was more important. It wasn't fair to Ed for him to have to be like this. He needed someone with him, family by his side.

"Brother," he said, "Brother?"

The pair of gold eyes opened, but his older, strong brother recoiled as much as he could with the cast on his arm and brace on his leg. "Who are you?" he rasped out.

"Brother," Al said, eyes holding back tears. He'd hoped the moment he'd get his body back would be a happy one for he and his brother, but the homunculi and Dante had taken that from them. "It's me, Al. I was forced to use the philosopher's stone to keep Dante and the homunculi from getting it."

"No," Ed said, shaking his head. "No, my brother Al would never have used the stone without me. He cared about getting my body back! Get the hell out of here! You're not Al! You're not!"

"Ed, I'm so sorry." Al tried to put his hand on his brother's shoulder, but the smaller teen recoiled from him.

"Get away!" Ed yelled, his voice painfully scratchy.

"I wanted to restore your body, Ed," Al said. "I really did. I'm so sorry." Tears were streaming down both teens' cheeks, though Ed's entire demeanor was absolutely furious while everything about Al's actions said he was remourseful.

"You're not Al! You aren't! He would have done anything for me just like I would for him. He wouldn't have just given up. Stop fucking with me!"

At hearing Ed scream, nurses rushed into the room, past Al to the bed. They shoved him out of the room, and tried to get him under control. The younger brother stood outside, seeing his father's somber expression.

"He didn't recognize you, did he?" Hohenheim asked.

"No," Al said. "He didn't even believe I could use the philospher's stone without him. I guess... I guess it's because he never would have without me. He never... He'd have found another way. I know he would have."

"And maybe for him, there would have been another way, but Al, for you and I, that was the only option for us to keep the stone out of their hands and to defeat them." Hohenheim outstretched a hand to pat Al's shoulder, but pulled it back again as Al withdrew into himself.

Al looked back into the room. He had always felt he'd failed his brother, this only proved it. He'd used the philosopher's stone, when his own brother lay on a hospital bed, two limbs gone, mind nearly vanished along with them. Al was whole, Ed was not. Ed was even less whole than when Al had last seen him. Where was the equivalent exchange there?

0o0o0o0

Ed awoke again, at night this time, judging by the window. He looked over to the left of him, seeing another hospital bed there, this one containing what looked like Roy Mustang, bruised and battered. Ed made a few noises, whimpering without intending it.

There was a groan from the bed beside him, and the older man turned to look at him. "Good," he said, sounding like he was in pain. "I said I wanted to be in the room with you. Are you feeling better?" Mustang turned to Ed, who could only manage to scowl. "Look, Fullmetal, I know when we last saw one another it wasn't the best of circumstances."

"Yeah, like every time I see you, you leave me for Pride to rape me!" Ed hissed.

"You still think I'm Envy?" Mustang said. "You're sitting in a hospital receiving treatment. I'm in a hospital receiving treatment, and you think…" The brigadier general tried to move the bar at the side of his bed a few times, having no luck. He reached to grab the small pencil on the bedside table, and Ed saw for the first time the bandages that covered the raven-haired man's left eye.

"What happened to you?"

"Archer. He shot me." Mustang answered. "Went through quite a few surgeries while you were unconscious." Ed could also see the man's arm was in a sling.

"And your arm?"

"Your captor," he answered. "Took one of the swords and pinned me to the wall by my shoulder."

"He liked to use those swords," Ed said, quietly.

"I'm sure. But he won't do it anymore." Mustang's voice still held pain, but his words sounded truthful. He grunted as he grabbed for the pencil and began drawing on the bars on the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"I know you've been gone for quite a while, but I'd think you'd recognize alchemy." Of course, Ed recognized alchemy, but Envy couldn't perform it. What did he think he was trying to prove? Unless this really was Mustang, and the person earlier really had been Al and he'd said… He'd said awful things to him.

When Mustang's fingers made contact with the circle he'd drawn, Ed began to cry, watching the transmutation. After all this time, he could perform alchemy, Mustang could perform alchemy, and this really was Mustang.

Ed cried harder. He was home, finally.

He could barely make out Mustang's figure as he moved from the bed slowly, sliding bottles dangling from a metal rack on wheels that led down to an IV in his right hand. Ed could hear as Mustang moved the long way around Ed's bed to the right side, where the pencil scribbled again and eliminated the bars.

The bed dipped as the older man sat down. He moved his right hand to hover over Ed's face. "Ed," he said. "I am so sorry. We searched and searched for you for all that time. We couldn't find you, and when I finally did, I didn't want to believe what I saw." The hand made contact with Ed's skin, but the teen willed himself not to recoil, not to pull back from the cool but human touch. "I should have protected you more."

"I'm home?" Ed said, half asking, half stating. "I'm safe?"

The cool hand moved over Ed's face. "Yes."

And that one word, so simple meant more to Ed than any before. That confirmation that finally, finally his living nightmare had ended.


	2. Chapter 2

**Nightmare**

**Chapter 2**

Ed lay on the bed in the hospital. Al had just left as it was time for Mustang's check-up. The two injured alchemists still shared a room, and both had agreed to allow the other in on their medical check-ups. It was a consolation made on Mustang's part more so than Ed's. As his superior officer, the fire alchemist would have known nearly all of the teen's medical history as it was.

It was a show of good faith on the older man's part to allow Ed in on every aspect of his treatment, despite the fact that any psychiatrist appointments and exams of damage from the repeated rapes were still off limits in regards to Ed's treatment. Mustang understood that those aspects were far too personal.

At the moment, the nurses in the room were re-dressing Mustang's wounds. They started with the pale alchemist's shoulder. The robe covering his lean chest and back was pooled on the bed, and for the first time since they'd shared the room, Ed didn't look away. It had only been a week in their matching beds, but Ed managed to bare to look at the other man's chest. After all, Mast-the son of a bitch had never disrobed.

"You have a lot of scars," Ed said.

"It's the nature of fire alchemy," Roy said. "You make mistakes and burn yourself. Not to mention the years I was a soldier in combat."

The nurses were done unwrapping the wound and were now removing the gauze. It was a nasty mark, and after two surgeries, it was still a mass of stitches with the flesh around it pulled tight and dark pink in color.

Mustang hissed as the nurses dabbed cotton balls covered in alcohol at the sword wound both in the front and back. His right hand clenched to the left wrist, as he attempted to keep it in the position it had been in while in the sling. The single eye closed for a moment, then opened again.

"How did you carry me with that?" Ed asked, more to himself, but immediately regretting it. He hadn't wanted to think it, let alone say it aloud for all the memories it evoked that he was trying to repress.

"Adrenaline," Roy answered simply, hissing again as the two women in white dabbed again. "I could have lifted Al in his armor at that point."

Ed nodded, and merely watched as the nurses placed gauze once again on the wound and wrapped it again. The teen's arm and leg were still in casts, so the damage done to them was visible and yet wasn't. Other areas, well, they were taking longer to heal, according to his doctor, though he thankfully could rest more easily on his backside without the shooting pain he'd experienced before.

Now, the teen watched as the two nurses removed the bandages from Mustang's eye. Ed hadn't dared to look at that yet. There was a part of the teen that felt it was unfair, knowing the brigadier general had always left the room for Ed. The teen looked down at his hands, all the while wondering how bad the damage was. Would his commanding officer have to wear an eyepatch like…

At that thought, Ed audibly gasped, looking up and unintentionally meeting both the good and bad eyes of the older man. The damaged eye was nothing but an ugly mass of stitches and scabs, and for all appearances, seemed to be completely gone. He saw hurt on Mustang's face, but he hadn't meant his surprise that way. Ed closed his own eyes tightly and looked away.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I told you that you didn't have to leave the room," Roy said. "I don't mind that you saw, and I know it looks pretty bad."

"It's not… Ed shook his head. "You could have gotten away." He was feeling sick to his stomach. He wasn't worth getting someone else hurt. Even if there had been a point at some time when he might have been, he certainly wasn't now. Not after that man had taken his value from him.

"And I would have gotten shot in the back, Fullmetal." There was a hiss; they were obviously cleaning the wound now. "Colonel Archer has always had a lot against me, and he had lost his mind thanks to the automail that made up half of his body."

"I don't think there was much there to begin with," Ed quipped.

"No, I have to agree with you on that." Ed looked up to find the nurses re-wrapping the older man's wounds. "I do believe you made a small joke, Fullmetal." The older man was smiling at him. Ed couldn't remember a time in their past when the older man had genuinely smiled at him. He'd only seen a smile before, but never…

This was making Ed even more uncomfortable, this smile, one that didn't even hold the pity he received from Al. He didn't often get, and certainly didn't deserve someone to smile at him with no hidden meaning. Ed looked away, eyes blinking furiously so that he wouldn't remember the way master—no, the son of a bitch would smile at him. That smile had always been so condescending, but had been designed to let Ed know his place. He was a pet. He only deserved a smile if he obeyed.

He felt a hand on him now. "Fullmetal."

The teen flinched back, moving as much as he could with the two heavy casts on his arm and leg. He looked up to find the older man, his face partially bandaged, standing over him.

"Making a joke is a good thing, Ed. It means that somewhere in the midst of everything that asshole did to you, the you I knew is still there."

Roy had thought the joke coming out of Ed's mouth would be a good thing, but the moment he'd smiled at the teen, Fullmetal had once again drawn back into himself.

0o0o0o0

"So when did you notice this change?" the psychiatrist asked him.

"After I smiled," Roy answered. "I just don't understand it. He made a joke, a remark that at least resembled something he'd have said a few months back. I was happy to har it, to see it, and I smiled at him."

"They did a lot of damage to him," the psychiatrist answered. "You can't expect him to just go back to what he was overnight."

"I know that, damn it!" Roy yelled at the woman. He then cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "It's just that it isn't fair to him that this is happening. I just want some sign the person I knew is in there. That I didn't completely fail at taking care of him."

"And why would you think that?"

"Look at him!" Roy said, voice raised again. "I'm his commanding officer, the only thing he had, and I never could manage to be kind enough to him to get him to trust me even slightly. I kept information from him to spare his feelings, and it made him distrustful, so distrustful that he couldn't bring himself to tell me that his brother discovered the fuhrer was… inhuman." Roy couldn't tell her exactly how inhuman the man really was. "If I had known, I could have helped him, protected him. He never would have gotten captured, never been…" Roy started to hiss in pain. "Damn it," he muttered. "It still hurts like hell." He wiped the eye that the tears were visible from but the damage done to his left eye only cause more pain as he continued to cry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It was late as Roy awoke from sleep, cold sweat dripping down his body. He silently cursed; he truly didn't need another thing to have nightmares about. Sighing to himself, he glanced at the bed to his right, of the two, further from the door. To watch the gentle rise and fall of the teen's chest would lead most to think that for once, Ed was having a peaceful night's sleep, but Roy knew better. He knew this was a medicated sleep and that Ed was nowhere near feeling peaceful, even while unconscious.

Roy shifted around on his bed, feeling oddly restless. Perhaps it was knowing that the Rockbell girl and Shezka were returning from Risembool tomorrow morning. He had to admit that he was not looking forward to seeing either of those women. Shezka had accused him of completely ignoring the murder of his closest friend, and he didn't know if she would see now what he'd done as part of a plan or not. He didn't know if it would redeem him in her eyes, and for some reason that bothered him, perhaps because he could not hear words of understanding from Maes. Then there was Winry, and Roy knew she'd forgiven him, if just a little, for her parents, but it didn't mean he'd forgiven himself.

And what would she think of him after she saw her childhood friend? Would she see him as the monster he felt like?

Roy again looked over at Ed's bed. He had honestly expected to find Ed lost somewhere, but no more worse for the wear than a few scrapes and bruises and a nastier-than-usual temperament. He anticipated Ed might need a little mending, but in the end, Roy would find himself bickering with Edo about this or that, tossing out short jokes, licking wounds from age ones. Ed would probably have questioned what had taken so long to rescue him, but in the end, he'd need little more than to brush himself off.

Really, after all he'd seen, the brigadier general should have known better than to have such optimism when it came to the military and missing personnel.

He shook his head, before resting it again on the pillow. He needed to sleep.

0o0o0o0

Riza had gotten the phone call from Kain late that night. He hadn't been able to do anything in the way of convincing the young man, and apparently, thought that Riza would have better luck. She walked to the little bar/restaurant, finding Al seated at one of the booths, poking at what looked like cheese fries.

She made her way through the smoke-filled place and sat next to Al on the booth, not having given him any prior notice to her presence.

"Oh!" the young man said, startled.

"It's late, Alphonse," she said.

"Lucky for me this place is open late." His voice was not as clear and crisp as it should have been.

She looked at the glass currently sitting next to the half-eaten plate of food. "Is that alcohol?" she asked, her tone cold.

"It is," Al said. "I'm old enough now."

"You're fifteen."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "The doctors say my body is nineteen. Lucky me, I avoided puberty all together."

"Al," she said, using the tone that Riza had perfected on her superior officer.

"No, Lieutenant. I can drink what I want. Legal age is 18 and is just one positive point to the fact that I've lost four years off my life. At least I can drink if I want to." Al's eyes met hers.

"You're foolishly confident when you have alcohol in your system."

Al just chuckled. "Go figure. I was terrified of you even when you couldn't hurt me in the armor. Now you really could hurt me, but thanks to liquid courage, I'm not scared." He continued to chuckle until the shaking of his shoulders was no longer due to laughter, but from heart-wrenching sobs.

Without second thought, Riza wrapped her arms around Al. "Alphonse, talk to me."

"Not here," he said, shaking his head.

"Then come back to my place. You can sleep this off there." The young man wiped at his eyes and looked at her. "Don't let Havoc know this was all it took to get to stay at my place." She climbed out of the booth, noticing Al was looking up at her in surprise.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye, you made a joke."

0o0o0o0

Al's mind was still cloudy when he arrived at the first lieutenant's apartment, greeted by a happy, but well-behaved Black Hayate. Riza gestured to a small sofa near the back wall.

"Have a seat, Alphonse," she said.

He nodded and did as instructed, feeling a little off-balance from the alcohol, but nowhere near as drunk as he remembered his brother on the one night he'd gone out with some of Mustang's team.

And again, at the thought of his drunken, laughing brother in his mind, Al broke, sobbing even as the older woman let him rest his head on her shoulder and wrapped her arms around him.

"I gave up on him," he said, encircling his own arms around her as he cried. "I really thought he was gone when Father and I went down to fight the homunculi and Dante. Just thinking for sure he was dead was the very worst thing I could do. I had actually started to consider it. I didn't even hesitate to use the stone for my own purposes. I used it, and now I have a body and Father isn't ill, but where is Ed? He's in a hospital bed, hardly himself at all anymore."

Riza said nothing comprehendible, rather opting to make soft noises in Al's ear, letting him sob out his guilt onto her shirt, leaving it tearstained.

"Al, I know what it is to think you've failed someone you care about. Believe me." He looked up at her, large brown eyes seeking something in her orange-tinted ones.

"The brigadier general. When he was shot." Then, Al winced at his own words. "I'm sorry. That was too blunt of me. I shouldn't have…"

"I opened it up for conversation," Riza said, shaking her head and rubbing his back.

"We're a nice pair, aren't we?" he asked. "Wallowing in our guilt."

"You seem to be doing more of the wallowing," she said.

Al said nothing more, but he took her hand and held it a moment. Both understood, and that was enough.

0o0o0o0

"Rise and shine," said the redheaded nurse Ed had grown to loathe. "We need to get you checked up. The doctor will be in soon, and I think I heard someone's automail mechanic… a pretty little blonde, is waiting outside."

"Really, now, must you be so obnoxious this early in the morning?" a low voice said to Ed's side.

Ed looked over and managed the faintest bit of a smile at him, a silent thank you that he didn't have to be the one being cruel to this nurse, the person who could "inadvertently" cause pain while treating him.

"Just be grateful I am not your nurse," the redhead said. "if I were…"

"No need for idle threats, ma'am," Mustang said, though he was obviously four or five years older than this woman, "I am thankful for that fact each and every morning you come in to terrorize my roommate."

"Well, now," she said, looking just the slightest bit flustered. "I am glad I have the better of the two patients. Now, let's have a look at your stats. And the doctor wanted a quick check of your other injuries."

Ed's eyes grew wide at that.

"This early in the morning?" Mustang asked her.

"Yes, well, having a mechanic come in to measure him for fittings is going to take a little bit of time, and after she is gone, he won't be able to come in until afternoon. We just need to see that the tears are continuing to heal."

Ed could feel his entire body tensing up. Mustang was still here, and it wasn't his doctor, wasn't the woman he'd grown familiar with.

It certainly wasn't pride that was keeping him from wanting to be seen, it was just that… He just couldn't do it. He was hyperventilating, and he didn't know how to stop it. He had barely managed to get himself accustomed to the idea of his doctor, and now there would be someone else poking and prodding at him, dredging up things he wanted locked away.

"Fullmetal," that voice said again, breaking his own inner-turmoil, "I don't think I told you about an alchemy question that was posed to the state a few weeks back."

It took Ed a few seconds to regain himself and actually speak. "Oh? Who solved it? Was it Al?" Ed asked, momentarily focusing on what the man was telling him. He hoped it had been Al who solved the problem, wanting to be proud of his little brother. Maybe even if it was Mustang, he could manage a little of the sentiment for his superior officer.

"No one has," Mustang said. "It remains unsolved."

"Then why are you asking me if even Al couldn't figure it out. He's better at that kind of stuff."

"With books, I will grant you that he is nearly as knowledgeable about alchemy as Falman about everything else, but he does not have your ingenuity when it comes to using alchemy. You are fairly creative and can almost visualize a transmutation before it happens. You can do that more than anyone else that's ever been a state alchemist."

Ed's brows met in confusion. A compliment? From Mustang?

He shook his head. He didn't deserve it; he wasn't special, certainly not when there was his brother, who'd managed to use the philosopher's stone for himself, his father who could do the same thing, even Mustang, who could do a form of alchemy that Ed simply didn't have the patience for.

"Listen, Ed," Mustang said, "I know how much you hate these inspections, but do you think we could discuss this transmutation, and take your mind off of it?"

A distraction technique. Of course. Naturally, his roommate didn't need his advice. Ed was just the little pet he'd rescued and taken pity for. But, at least Mustang had saved him. If he wanted Ed to play along with this distraction, Ed could.

He nodded. "Tell me," he said, as the nurse carefully put up some privacy screens and sheets to prevent Mustang from seeing anything other than Ed's pained face.

"Well, the Cerulean Alchemist, she's a water alchemist, she was preparing to invent a new transmutation. This symbol, actually…" The older man began drawing on a nearby notepad.

0o0o0o0

When Winry came in, she heard Ed actively discussing a point of debate, and it sounded like they were fairly far along in the discussion, despite the fact that the nurse had left the room not long before.

"Well, you and Al were both wrong, but on different things," she heard her friend say. "Al forgot that when combining hydrogen in that way, you are nearly forcing the oxygen in the water to turn into ozone. You had more focus of the oxygen, but you made the hydrogen too combustible… Not that it is too much of a surprise for you."

"Flame Alchemist and all, it is a force of habit," the second voice said.

"You are a pyromaniac," Ed said.

"I will not deny it."

Winry could hardly believe that such a discussion could take place, and she looked over at Al and Riza Hawkeye. Both looked hopeful at the banter going on inside, as though this wasn't normal.

"Give them a few more minutes, Miss Rockbell. I think they need this."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Al had done everything he could to prepare her, but Winry still felt it took every ounce of strength she had not to have a visible reaction to Ed's condition. Even when he had lost his arm and leg, Winry didn't think she had ever seen him look so lost, so hurt. Despite herself, she found tears gathering in her eyes and a sob shaking her body. 

She started to run to Ed, but even as overbearing as she could be, she saw the look of pure terror on her childhood friend's face and she stopped, the sobbing still continuing. 

"I'm sorry," she managed before collapsing into a chair at his bedside and grabbing on to the rail that surrounded his hospital bed. "Oh, Ed, I thought… I thought you were… And you're here…" And she just kept crying, as though she couldn't stop. She wanted to touch him, to prove that he wasn't dead like everyone thought. She wanted some physical proof, not just visual, that he was really here. 

"Winry?" Ed asked, his voice quiet, timid. Not at all like it had been before when he was discussing alchemy with Mustang. 

She looked up at Ed through tear-blurred eyes. 

"I'm sorry the automail was broken," he said. His voice sounded so small. 

"I'm not crying over broken automail, Ed," she snapped, again shocked to find him recoil. 

"M'sorry," Ed mumbled. 

"It is quite all right, Fullmetal," the voice of the other wounded man said. "I believe your friend is so grateful to see you that you are safe from her wrench for once." 

"You're safe from it forever," she said. "It was a little crazy of me to do it in the first place. I'm sorry I ever did it. I just knew that if you damaged the automail, you had been in danger too." 

Ed said nothing, though he looked as though he was preparing to apologize once again, biting his lip just to keep from doing it. 

"Do you need to check the ports and fittings?" he asked instead, and Winry was grateful. 

"Only to look at them," she said. "I don't want to do anything that might hurt you." 

Ed nodded and shifted so that she could get to his ports. 

"Don't move too much," Mustang chided. 

Ed nodded obediently, and Winry fought not to shudder at the lack of opposition from her friend. 

0o0o0o0 

Roy managed to step outside as the doctors analyzed Ed's injuries and the nurses gave him a sponge bath. Well, it wasn't so much step as was rolled out of the room by Riza. 

"Can I get you anything?" she asked him. 

"Anything at the cafeteria that isn't gelatin would be nice," he said. "I'll just stay out here and wait on Ed to be done." 

The honest truth was that he didn't want to be too far away from the teen, afraid of what the young man might be going through, and that he might need someone at the moment. 

Riza smiled at him, and he could not help but see the pity and something else in her eyes, though he couldn't quite place the exact emotion he was seeing. Somehow, he suspected it was guilt, knowing his long-time friend. "I'll go find something," she said before she left him there in the hall, sitting opposite a tall, blond-haired man. 

"Are you still waiting out here, Hohenheim?" Roy asked. 

The man hung his head. "I doubt that my son is going to want to see me, especially in this condition. As long as I am here, I know how he is doing without adding to his stress." 

Roy sighed. "Eventually, you are going to have to talk to him." 

"He would only get angry at me," Hohenheim said, meeting Roy's eye. 

"And that would be a fairly nice change. A little anger, that's normal for Ed, probably you're doing, seeing how much he hates authority figures." Roy managed his most intimidating look, despite the pain that much movement on his face still caused his lost eye. "Anything would be better than watching him cower like a puppy who's been kicked. Like someone who had done to him exactly what was done to him." 

"Not today," the man said. "Al said that Ed just realized that the transmutation with the stone cost Al more than the four years in the armor, but four more years. I cannot, in good conscience go in there to show that at the moment, I am perfectly healthy. That the transmutation restored me when my youngest boy is now four years older than he should be and the other one has suffered the way he did." 

"If I do not see you in there in a few days, I will personally have Riza and my other men drag you in, seeing as I'm not in a condition to do so." Roy then gave the older man a look that told him that there was no question he meant those words. 

"Very well," Hohenheim said, "but I will not go until we are absolutely sure it will not do more harm than good to my son." 

"Nice to see you have such concern for him, regardless of how belated it is," Roy told him. 

"We had this discussion in Risembool, and I have no intentions of having it again. You helped my sons, Ed while in the military and now after all he's gone through and Al while he was looking for Ed and the stone." Hohenheim's posture became straighter. "While I appreciate that and all you've done, I will not continue to explain myself to you." 

There was silence again, until the screaming started, Hohenheim forgoing all thoughts on keeping himself away from his son as he pushed Roy into the room and both went to Ed's side, Roy with a great deal more effort to go at the same speed as the other man. 

"No!" Ed shouted, his eyes closed tightly. "Please, no!" 

Roy could see that the teen wasn't here. More than once, he'd seen men and women do exactly as Ed was doing now, reliving moments from a traumatic event. Ed was trapped inside his mind, and Roy wanted to stop it. 

He lurched as he reached Ed's bedside and sat on the lowered railings on the sides. It was hard just to remain alert through the pain that was now running through his body, making it difficult, but he knew Ed needed to be brought out of his flashback before he hurt himself. 

"What happened?" he asked the nurses over Ed's yelling. "Why is he screaming?" 

"We don't know," the obnoxious redhead said. "We were brushing through his hair, it caught in the brush and he just started this." 

0o0o0o0 

_He yanked Ed by his hair and brought the blond's face to his member. "Try fighting again, and I swear to you that I will rip every single strand out of your head."_

_Ed glared up at him. "I dare you to make me suck it," he said, still defiant after two weeks. "do they grow back on homunculi if they've been bitten off?"_

_He was dragged by his hair and slammed against the hard, cold stone wall. He heard something break, probably a rib, but he couldn't be sure._

_"By the time I'm done with you, Pet, if I tell you to suck it, you will, and you'll be glad for the privilege." Again, the fuhrer yanked at Ed's hair. "But I have not gotten this far by being stupid. I have no intention of giving you the opportunity to try what you've suggested. Not yet."_

_"I'm not a pet," Ed growled._

_"Yes you are," Pride said. "You just need broken, like a disobedient animal."_

_And before Ed could protest further, the fuhrer was behind him, slamming into his already abused body, one hand at Ed's hips, the other jerking at his hair._

_Despite himself, despite his desire not to give the man the pleasure of knowing how much pain he was causing, Ed screamed at the painful intrusion._

Ed wasn't really aware of where he was, and though the pain at his scalp had dissipated, he still could not pull himself from his inner torment. 

_"You know, Brat," Envy said as he transformed from Ed's own brother back to his familiar form, "with that hair, you look just like our father." There was a swift punch to Ed's kidneys, then Envy grabbed a handful of the long hair. "And I hated him."_

_"You think I liked him any better?" Ed spat back._

_"I don't care what you think. He left me so that he could have you, his perfect son, the little prodigy genius."_

_Ed tried to use his remaining leg to fight back, but all it did was put the weight of his body on his left hand and his hair._

_"He left me, too, Bastard!" Ed said._

_Did he? Well, we have more in common than I thought. Let's be…" And there was a swift kick that knocked Ed's arm out from beneath him. "Friends!"_

_And with that, Envy left him for Pride to use. "I'm done playing," he told the older-looking sin. "It's your turn."_

_If there was anything Ed was grateful for, it was that Envy never stayed and watched. Not once. He never witnessed Pride gathering his beaten body up just high enough that he could plunge inside without concern, pound hard enough that Ed bled every time._

0o0o0o0 

Ed finally started coming round, feeling someone holding him, awkwardly, but holding him, nonetheless. He felt a third hand rubbing circles at his back, and took a deep breath. 

That cologne, strong and familiar, jolted his senses back to reality. He remembered it, the scent that had stunk and lingered at his home long after the man holding him and left. Had it not been for the casts currently on his only limbs, Ed would have recoiled, would have moved, but he was trapped. Trapped against the man he'd learned to loathe since childhood. 

"Get away from me!" he yelled out. "Get away!" 

"They're not here anymore," he heard his father say. "No one will hurt you." The man actually had the nerve to try and comfort him! 

"Hohenheim, move," he heard Mustang order. "That wasn't a memory. It was a demand." 

Ed could feel himself being passed from one man to the other, though it was obviously difficult for his superior officer to supply some form of support. There were grunts of pain as he attempted to take over as Hohenheim backed away. 

Ed leaned into Mustang's body all the same, knowing that somehow, the man understood what he was going through, even if he could not fully comprehend. 

"Ed, we're here, at the hospital. You are safe," the man said over and over until finally, Ed's panicked breaths slowed. With the nurses' help, Mustang lowered Ed onto the bed, and the teen looked around him. 

"I thought you left Mom because you weren't well. You look awfully' damned healthy to me." Ed was glaring up at his father. Remembering his childhood anger, combined with the recent memory of the regular beatings he earned from Envy because of this man, Ed's fury was growing, blocking out the terror his mind had made him relive. 

"In using the stone with me there, Al healed be as well as got his body back," Hohenheim said. 

"So, Al lost four years of his life, on top of the four in the armor, and you just get to continue on, you walking corpse?" Ed asked. 

"I did not ask for this," Hohenheim said simply. "I had hoped that I would have some use to your brother as a sacrifice. Once we lured Envy into the Gate, and he didn't have the chance to kill me, I thought I might be able to offer that for Al. It did not work the way we planned." He then added quietly. "It never does." 

"Just… just get out," Ed said, once again remembering Envy hitting him. So many times. And then what would follow the turning over of the situation to Pride. 

Hohenheim nodded, and Ed found a hand at his head, this time rubbing gently. He looked up to find Mustang again. 

"Why do you care so much?" he asked bluntly. "I'm not worth it." 

"You are," he said, then put a hand over Ed's mouth as he tried to argue. "I will not have a disagreement with you as to whether you are worthy or not of care. I say you are, and that's it. Understand?" 

Ed looked away from the single, probing onyx eye. Then he mumbled, "I want to cut it off." 

"Cut what, Fullmetal?" 

"My hair. I want it gone." 

0o0o0o0 

Roy watched as the nurses carefully cut Ed's hair, leaving it little more than an inch or two in length. It had an odd effect on the young man's appearance. In one breath, he looked younger, in another, very, very old. He looked so difference with his bangs gone, barely any fringe there to cover his forehead. 

Roy wondered what it was that the fuhrer had done with that hair to make him hate it so much. 

"Why didn't you argue with him?" Al asked quietly, as another snip of the scissors was heard. 

"Because he needs it to be gone. It brings up unpleasant memories," Roy whispered back. "Maybe he'll grow it back, but only when it doesn't mean something terrible to him." 

Ed looked in a small hand mirror when it was done, appearing startled and the change and somehow relieved. 

Roy watched the teen try to raise his arm to touch the cropped hair, but found it restricted by the cast. 

For just a moment, a memory of a favorite shirt and pants floating on a small lake flitted across Roy's mind. Sometimes, things just have to go. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Roy picked up the ball for the twentieth time, it seemed.

"Just throw it in the basket," the physical therapist said, as though he was talking to a two-year-old.

"No, really?" Roy asked, sarcasm biting at this point. "Gee, that makes things much easier. I was aiming for the wall." He glared at the man. "Or your head," he said in a quiet growl.

Roy tossed the small ball at the large basket, and though it was headed in exactly the right direction, he missed it by three feet, as he overshot his target once again. Admittedly, he wasn't undershooting it anymore, but he could not seem to find a happy medium.

There was a strong part of him that wanted to aim it at the man's head, but he knew he wouldn't hit it even if he did.

"It will take some practice," the man said in his quiet, yet chipper voice.

"Well, wonderful, because I need to know how to throw a ball every day in my life. It will do well when I'm playing as pitcher in the state alchemists' softball league."

"Pardon me for saying that a softball is somehow better than fireballs when you are re-learning your aim."

"And you know what?" Roy asked, taking the ball and tossing it at the plaster wall as hard as he could, busting the wall and lodging the white sphere in it. "You can take your physical therapy and shove it out of your overly optimistic ass. You know, if I really wanted to, I could probably find a way to make it possible to at least make this softball do it."

"I'm sure you could. Though I have to say that you did manage to hit that wall with a nice amount of force."

"Great, so I can continue as an alchemists as long as I only go for the large targets."

"It is a start," the physical therapist said. "Though you will have to pay for the repairs to the wall now."

"Good luck getting it out of my accounts. They've been frozen by the military until they decide if I'm a criminal or not."

The man just shook his head and went to retrieve the balls from around the room. "You might be irritable, but you aren't a criminal for what you did to the fuhrer."

"And you might be obnoxious, but you have good judgment."

0o0o0o0

Al walked alongside his brother's chair as the nurse pushed it down the hall to a secluded area where he would have his automail arm installed. The premise was that Winry would need the space to do the installation, but Al knew better. He knew it hurt his brother, and that most everyone who had automail attached or reattached ended up in enough pain to force them to scream. He dreaded thinking of the fact that Ed would have to go through the surgery for his leg again as though he'd never had the automail in the first place.

"You could have done it in the room," Ed said quietly. "I won't scream."

"I've seen grown men scream at this," the redheaded nurse said. Her name was Annie or Amy or something like that, though Al had started referring to her as the Red Terror. She never seemed to comfort his brother, though she tried. But treating him as though he was a child, something Ed really had never been, wasn't going to work on his brother. Al knew that.

"Right, because I'm not as strong as a grown man," Ed said. For just a second, that wasn't a tone of self-loathing or lack of worth. It was Ed, bitter about his height. And for that tone, for that comment, Al wanted to hug the nurse and kiss his brother, or the other way around.

"Well, you're still a young thing," the nurse said. "And after all you've been—"

"Brother got his automail when he was eleven. He will be fine," Al said, actually glaring at the terror.

"Eleven? So young?" she asked. "You poor thing."

Ed looked up at Al, his eyes both expressing a desire for his brother to save him and to see her die slowly and painfully. And though he was a pacifist himself, Al would have. He had seen how much his brother was hurt by this woman's unintentional stupidity, though she irritated him more often than hurt him, thankfully

And yet, there was something in her that brought out the tiniest bit of the brother Al had always remembered, the brother he missed more than he could admit. Just that look, not of cowering fear, but of irritation at the Red Terror was something Al has wondered if he'd see again. Even Mustang, a regular irritant for Ed was no longer a target of anger.

No, instead, he seemed to be a source of comfort for Al's brother, and as much as the teen didn't want to admit it, that bothered him. Much as he hated it, Al could feel the green-eyed monster coming out when he thought of it.

Thankfully, before Al had to intervene, or before she said something beyond the irritation so far, Winry came bursting out of the room, a little larger than life, a little louder than Al would have liked.

"Edward James Elric," she said, "what did you do to your hair?"

"I… I cut it," he said. There were conflicting emotions crossing his face. Al spotted the fear that always showed itself when someone spoke in a raised voice to him, but there was also enough familiarity in it that he wasn't cowering. And for that, the younger brother was happy. It was at least a step in the right direction.

Winry looked up at Al, and he tried to convey to her how important it was that she just accept the change.

"Well," she said. "It's definitely different. No bangs at all to hide behind now." She smiled at Ed. "I should be grateful. It means that when you're trying to pull one over on me or embarrassed, I'll know."

And with that, she took the chair from the nurse and wheeled Ed into the room, signaling for Al to follow. And he did, though there was something in her expression at that moment that made him realize that all his battles with his brother as children were pointless. He could see in Winry's eyes that there would never be a need to fight. Despite it all, she loved Ed. Not him.

0o0o0o0

"So, how does it feel to have your automail back," the doctor asked Ed.

"Okay, I guess," he said.

"Bittersweet?" she asked him.

"Hmm?" Ed asked, having lost his attention on her as he saw workers repairing a wall just outside of his therapy room.

"I asked if it was bittersweet to get your arm back."

"Oh," Ed said, still not looking at the therapist. "Yeah, I guess so. I can at least do things for myself now."

She turned around and followed his line of sight. "You find renovation work so interesting?"

"No," Ed said. "I heard that Mustang had a temper tantrum. I'm just guessing that was it."

"Does it surprise you that he got angry?"

"Hell no." Ed looked at older woman and stopped craning his neck to see behind her. "I'm more surprised he hasn't gotten angry with me yet. We used to go at one another all the time."

"And what do you think about the way things are now?"

"It's kinda weird," Ed said. "He doesn't walk on eggshells like everyone else, but he doesn't yell at me either. We used to yell a lot."

"What if things went back to the way they were?"

"It…" Ed floundered a moment, eyebrows meeting as he thought on it, a frown on his face. "It would be more normal, but I don't know if I'd like it too much."

"You rely a lot on the brigadier general, don't you?"

"It's not like I want to," Ed said defensively. "I'm just more comfortable around him. He is just understanding. Like when my brother heard I was cutting off my hair. Al looked really worried about it."

"You've been calmer in the last two days since you did it," she said. "According to your doctors, you've had fewer outbursts."

Ed fingered his short hair, though he couldn't feel it with the automail. "They wouldn't let me cut it," he said. "Mast—the son of a bitch said he liked it. And the bastard said it reminded him of my father."

Though he hadn't used either name, he had used the two terms often enough to guarantee that the psychiatrist understood which of his tormenters was which.

"So this is something you have done for yourself?" she asked him.

"It is," Ed said.

0o0o0o0

And yet, he couldn't help but admit that he still contemplated death, that even that night, when it was dark and the only noise filling the room was the even pace of Mustang's breathing. He looked at his hand in the faint light that filled the room through the blinds covering the windows, seeing how the light reflected off the metal of the newly-installed limb. It was part of him, and yet it wasn't. If he actually tried to strangle himself with it, would it stop when his brain kicked in to protect itself? Or would it continue on?

He sighed. It wasn't as though he would manage it tonight, if for no other reason than the fact that the hospital would revive him.

He dropped his right arm to the bed with a thud. The desire to die was still there. It probably wouldn't leave, but it certainly felt less intense than it had during those first few days.

He turned his head and glanced over at the bed next to his. It had been over two weeks since the man had saved him, and he'd heard some quiet discussions of what Mustang's fate would be for the rescue and the fuhrer's death. It wasn't fair. Mustang had done all that he had to redeem himself, not to be punished.

There was some moaning from the other bed. It wasn't uncommon, Ed found. It seemed like the older man had nightmares often. Ed may not have noticed because his sleep had come to him via drugs prior to Monday, but in the three days since he was allowed to sleep on his own, he'd observed that he wasn't the only one who suffered from reliving memories in his sleep.

The moaning turned more pained, more like quiet screaming, and Ed knew he couldn't take that. He couldn't stand to lay here and hear him crying out for Maes, who he knew Envy had killed. He couldn't hear him trying to make apologies to Winry and Pinako or to Winry's parents. And he couldn't hear him trying to apologize to Ed himself for not finding him sooner. Didn't Mustang understand that the simple fact that he hadn't given up on him, that he had been the one person in the world who hadn't given up meant more to Ed than he could say. Hell, he'd been the one to find him and rescue him from that in the first place. The man arriving late was still better than an eternity with the two homunuculi torturing him.

"Mustang," Ed hissed, but got no reaction. "Mustang!" he said more loudly and still nothing from the man in the other bed. "Roy!" he called out as he tossed an empty plastic cup at the man, hitting him on his thigh.

He watched as the other man sat up in his bed, much to fast to be healthy.

"Ed?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, but you were having a nightmare."

"Oh." The man's eye was still blurry with sleep. "I'm sorry."

"Just… go back to bed."


	6. Chapter 6

**Nightmare Ch. 6**

Roy looked up to the sound of a knock at the door of the room he shared with Ed. He saw Riza's head poking in through the opening of the door, as though taking a peek first at Ed's bed to ensure he wasn't in the room, then over at Roy.

"Brigadier General, sir?"

"Yes, Riza?" he asked, tiring of hearing his title, and knowing the bright woman would realize his purpose for calling her by name.

"The rest of the team… and Major Armstrong would like to see you."

Despite all of the drama surrounding him and said team at the moment, Roy smiled. "Bring  
them in."

Riza returned the smile as she opened the door wider, letting in the flood of blue-uniformed men. Roy soon found his bed surrounded by his team, all talking at once, all expressing concern for his health and well-being. There was an odd feeling of familiarity, that as they saw him like this, he was no longer their commander or a hero to "save" anything. He may have been older than all but Armstrong, but gone was treatment that he was somehow above them.

"How are you feeling, sir?" Falman asked him.

"I feel better every day," Roy said.

Havoc looked over his shoulder at the other bed. "And the boss? He's not here?"

"He's at therapy."

There was a uniform nod from the five men.

Even the usually boisterous Armstrong was silent at that.

"Brigadier General?" Fuery asked.

"Roy," the man said, "please, I don't even know if I'm going to be a brigadier general or even a private after the JAG is done with me. So all of you, call me Roy."

"Roy, then," Fuery said, taking a very visible swallow. "Did they really… Did they hurt Ed like the rumors say?"

"I cannot say what the rumors are on Ed's condition," Roy said, somberly, "but I doubt they came close to describing how he suffered."

"Poor Ed," Breda said. "And they're still going to bring him to court."

Roy's eyes snapped up. "Court? Why?"

"Because he was listed as AWOL," Breda answered. "It's the same reason that we were all cleared of charges in order for the JAG to prosecute you and the first lieutenant."

"I'm glad to hear that you are all cleared of charges," Roy said. Though, he had to admit that while he was surprised by the methods, he was anticipating some attack from the Judge Advocate General's office. They had all been brought in as military attorneys under the fuhrer's reign. Though he at least knew that the judges within the same judicial department were appointed by parilament and ran a much more diverse gambit in their loyalties and opinions.

"I think it is a great disgrace," Armstrong said. "You have heroically ridded this country of a terrible tyrant and they are charging you for assassination. Then, they try to put your fellow team members against you rather than at your side by putting the blame for our actions upon you. I would rather stand by your side, Roy. It goes against Armstrong family honor to allow someone else to take the blame for one's own actions."

Roy shook his head. "My only regret is that Riza will be prosecuted as well. When I did this, I hoped that I would be the only one to face disciplinary action."

"That isn't fair, Chief, we all did what we did because we believed in it," Havoc said.

"And in you, sir," Falman said, folding his arms across his chest.

"In other words, Roy," Riza said, "no playing the martyr. Got it?"

Roy sighed. "No, I suppose not." He looked at the people around him. "Well, is there anyone at the JAG who isn't still loyal to the fuhrer and furious with me for ruining a good thing?"

Falman shook his head. "Unfortunately, there are none there who would be capable of defending you as they were brought in by Fuhrer Bradley. And not one has a clear record of keeping his or her own personal opinions out of any matter."

"You sound as though you read all of their case files," Havoc said. Falman opened his mouth, obviously to confirm that was what he'd done. "Never mind. I should know better with you."

"Which is why you will need another member of the military with the ability to defend you," Riza said with a smile. "They need to be able to think on their feet, be fairly intelligent, and have some background with law."

"In other words, I'm going to be doing it," Breda said. "You know, sir, you're really ruining things for me. I was hoping to coast my way to retirement, depose one or two fuhrers on the way, but stay relatively out of the limelight." He smiled.

"And though I do not have law training, I will assist with research," Falman said.

"And Fuery and I are going to do our damndest to make sure they don't turn our statements on you." Havoc stuck his hands in his pockets.

Roy wanted to protest, to tell them not to tie themselves to him, as he was a sinking ship, but instead, he said. "Just promise me that you will offer the same thing for Riza, Ed and Alphonse."

"Of course we will," Breda said. "We owe at least that to all of you."

Roy smiled at them, feeling more relieved knowing Ed, his brother, and Riza would be defended. "Thank you."

0o0o0o0

"I heard the nurses talk about the fact that Roy doesn't need to be here anymore," Ed said to Dr. Hector.

"His injuries could be handled at home now," Dr. Hector said.

"But he won't go. He said he's waiting for me to be able to go with him."

"And how does that make you feel?" she asked him.

"Weird," Ed admitted. "He never seemed to… you know, care before." Ed flicked a ball of fuzz from the armrest of his wheelchair. "I don't want pity."

"I've been working with the brigadier general as well, Ed, and it isn't pity." She tucked a piece of graying brown hair behind her ear. "He, as you said, cares."

Ed sighed, but said nothing for some time, preferring to continue to flick off a few specks of dust from the armrest of his wheelchair. "I hate this thing, you know?"

"The wheelchair?" the woman asked, her soft blue eyes scanning over him.

He nodded. "I mean, at least I can get around, but I miss being able to do it on my own."

"Well, you'll get your automail leg soon, won't you?"

Ed sighed and rested his head on his automail hand, his shoulders shifting to support the sling and cast on his other arm. "Winry said the surgery will have to wait until I'm a little better healed. And even then, it will be at least six months before I can really use it."

"Well, by then, you'll be getting around with crutches at least." Ed didn't respond, but the idea of six months, hell, even six days seemed painful. He didn't want to be a burden anymore than he already was. "So tell me a little about Winry. She's more than just your mechanic, isn't she?"

"Sure," Ed said. "She's been my friend since we were little kids. My brother and I used to fight over her. That's kind of funny now." Yet, there was nothing in his voice, demeanor or mind that was mirthful.

"Why?"

"Well, Al's a better choice any day over me," Ed said. "And really, I'd let him have Winry."

"Before I address your self-deprecating comments, let me say that as a woman, I the idea of you passing her off to your brother like an item is somewhat grating," Dr. Hector had an eyebrow raised, but nothing in her tone was accusatory or angry.

"That's not what I meant," Ed said, defensively. "I just… I don't think of Winry that way. I haven't for a while."

"A while being more than two months ago?"

Ed just nodded. "But lately, I haven't really been thinking of anyone that way. I just… I can't. What I used to think I liked, well, I don't know if I could anymore."

"Ed?" Dr. Hector said.

"Maybe they were right and I am just a freak," Ed said.

"Edward," the doctor's voice said, sternly, forcing him to look up. "Not a thing they said about you was true. You are a strong, intelligent young man. You are trying to recover from an experience that is naturally going to be difficult, but still you try. That hardly makes you a freak. It makes you special and admirable."

He bit his lower lip. He wondered what she would think if she knew.

"Ed, talk to me."

He shook his head, wrapping his automail arm around himself. "Can't." How could he say aloud that sometimes, not often, he managed to get hard, that once, the son of a bitch had managed to get him off? How could he tell her that after a while, his body had decided this was all it was going to get, so it would find pleasure from it? Where were the words for that?

0o0o0o0

Al was still sitting outside of his brother's therapy session, watching as Winry carefully made adjustments to the automail leg she had made for Ed. She loved his brother. Al realized that, and there was a startling moment where he found he'd decided he wasn't going to be a second choice. Winry wanted Ed, Ed didn't seem to want her, and Al wasn't going to be a consolation prize.

There was something strangely frightening and empowering in that small decision. Maybe after Ed got better, he would decide he liked Winry. If he did, then that was wonderful, but Al knew he wouldn't hold out hope that eventually her attention would turn to him.

"Do you think he'll get better?" she asked with genuine concern.

"He's usually really resilient," Al said. "But this… I don't know if anyone could get better after this. Even brother."

Winry looked at him as though his answer had disappointed her, but he felt he was just being honest. He wasn't going to sugarcoat what he knew was true. This was a horrible thing that had happened, and Ed wasn't bouncing back like he had from so many things in the past. Al knew that things were bad if Ed couldn't even manage his usual false optimism, even when things seemed their worst. If Ed was beyond even false pretences of being well, Al knew a quick recovery would not happen.

Al saw Riza pacing down the hallway and she signaled to him to come with her. He was surprised by it, but he followed nonetheless.

"Lieutenant?" he asked politely. "You're usually with the brigadier general when you are here."

"It is a bit crowded in there," she said, though she continued to walk down the hall to a more secluded area, again gesturing for Al to follow her, which he did. "Alphonse, I have heard from Breda that two of the four planned arrests concerning the fuhrer's death are to be made this afternoon."

Al's face began to grow red with anger. "They can't!" he said, much too loud for the hospital. "My brother is just healing, and they are actually going to blame him? And the brigadier general! He saved Ed from that monster and they are going to arrest him?"

"It isn't them the soldiers will be coming to arrest. At this point the JAG feels that in their current conditions, they aren't a threat to anyone. However, that cannot be said of their accomplices." Her tone was even, and despite Al's outburst, not once had she told him to keep his voice down.

"Us?" Al asked in a hiss, as though the air had been let out of him. She nodded. "They can't do that. I only just got to see my brother."

"They can, and they are. You have to understand that the JAG was hired by the fuhrer, and they are not exactly happy by what transpired two weeks ago."

Al folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes. "Can they even prove the fuhrer is dead? I heard there wasn't a body."

"There wasn't a body of the fuhrer, but there was of his son and there was a fire of massive proportions."

Riza put her hands in the pockets of the black pants she wore, almost as though she didn't know what else to do with them. "And in order to comfort your brother after night terrors and even ones during the day, Roy has confessed to the crime several times."

"And because of that, you are being arrested?" Al asked.

"I shot Colonel Archer in plain sight, and it is fairly obvious I knew and 'colluded' with Roy's intentions."

Al nodded. "And I still have the charges from the fuhrer for withholding the philosopher's stone from the government."

"Yes," Riza said.

"Running away wouldn't be an option even if we wanted to because we have the brigadier general and Brother here." She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. "I know that you would not run even if you could. I was only saying."

He looked down at his hands. "When are they coming?"

"They will be here in a few minutes," she answered.

"Do you have any idea where they might take us?"

"In Central's brig. At least, I know that is where I will be going until more is decided. You might find yourself there as well."

Golden brown eyes looked up to meet rust-colored ones.

"It isn't right. Isn't fair. And what will they do with Brother afterward? And the brigadier general?"

"Breda is serving as Roy's attorney. He's already pushing for house arrest for Roy and including Edward in that because of how much your brother seems to rely on him."

"I hope it works. For them at least."

"So do I."

The younger man put his arm around Riza and together they waited for their fate.

0o0o0o0

Ed had heard Mustang yell before, usually at him, but today, it seemed almost a steady, loud roar. In the back of his mind, Ed knew he should fear it. He should be afraid of someone yelling as Mustang was yelling at the moment, but the part of him that wanted to rant and rave and was being suppressed by memories and nightmares was enjoying the sight too much to consider fear.

"What the hell do you mean that they have been arrested?!" he asked Falman, who looked more flustered than Ed could remember seeing him.

"Sir," Falman said. "Breda is there now arguing that they are necessary to your and the major's recovery."

"They did nothing more than what was necessary! They are not criminals! Why would they arrest them when they let the rest of you go with not even a slap on the wrist."

"Because the JAG wants revenge, Mustang," Ed said quietly. "The fuhrer was malicious and knew how to hurt someone. Believe me, I know." He looked away distantly for a moment. "You have to know that anyone who worked for him that close would know how to do it just as well as he did."

"That is exactly what Breda believes," Falman said. "By placing more of the blame on both of you and Alphonse and the lieutenant, it helps them paint you as criminals and still hurt you by hurting them."

Ed thought it was a fairly devious plan. He wondered whose idea it truly was: the man who had tortured and tormented him or the people he trusted to serve as his lawyers.

0o0o0o0

"Judge Campbell has been assigned to this case," Captain Anton de Havilland said. "He has never made sentiments known, but I do not believe he will be seeing things from our perspective."

"Then what do we do?" Captain Gustav Messerschmitt asked. "It was your brilliant idea to let Mustang's men go free."

Anton turned on the older but smaller man. "Are we making accusations?" Dark brown eyes glared. "Because when word reached us all about the fuhrer's death, I do not recall you making any suggestions."

"We trusted you, but I am considering that it might be an error in our judgment."

"That's just fine," Anton said, long, pale fingers curling on the back of the chair in front of him. "So tell me, what do you think will happen when one of the people who think like Mustang gets in office? Or Mustang himself? What will happen to us? There isn't one here who can honestly say that we have a clean enough record to withstand a new fuhrer trying to shake down the current administration."

"So why did we let Mustang's supporters go?" Gustav asked, getting fairly bold for the normally weaselly man. Anton assumed he had already heard from the other higher-ups in the JAG that they were thinking the same thing. Gustav certainly would not have had this sort of initiative on his own or it would have been him in charge of the JAG rather than the considerably younger Anton.

Anton smiled as he turned from the man and checked his appearance in the nearest window, smoothing down a loose pale-blond lock. "We let them go because they _were_ supporters, Gustav, surely even you could comprehend that. If they are all charged with the same thing, they are equals, six people, including Mustang and the woman, who all believed the same thing, who have started a wave of rejecting King Bradley's administration. If we try them all successfully, they are a group of martyrs who did the best possible thing for their cause. If we try only Mustang and Hawkeye," Anton said, turning back to face the gray-haired man, "then we can show that they bullied their team into taking those positions, commanded them to defy the military and risked their jobs and our way of life."

The younger captain looked down upon the older one. "Surely you must understand that if Mustang becomes a villainous figurehead, we will be able to keep our jobs and our freedom. Of course, considering I've got almost half the years on my record that you do, I wonder what would be discovered in a thorough rifling of your personnel and criminal records."

As anticipated, Gustav backed down.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"State your name."

Al looked at the man who would be questioning him. Alphonse Christopher Elric." Then, as polite and cheerful as he could manage, he asked, "What's yours?"

The man, probably about thirty, glared at him. It was odd, he thought, that he could so simply disarm and irritate people by behaving as oblivious and pleasant as possible. Still, it was something that came naturally to him—the pleasant part, at least—and he would use it.

"I will ask the questions here," he said. "The first is why you claim to be sixteen years old when all doctors assure us that you must be near twenty."

"I am sixteen years old," Al said. "In an accident caused by my brother and me performing alchemy at far too young an age, I managed to find myself stuck to the armor that I was known for. Then, later, when a philosopher's stone was created by the serial killer, Scar, the armor I was attached to was used. In trying to remove myself from the armor and the highly reactive stone, this was how I ended up coming out of the armor. I was intact, but as you can see, I have lost years from my life. The act, unfortunately, utilized the stone and used it up."

Al had worked with his father to create this version of his story, and as Hohenheim had helped to create this story, he would back it up. Thankfully, Al's father was not under investigation.

"Really?" the man asked, incredulously.

"Yes, but it was either lose those years or live a life in a can of armor," Al answered back. "I think this is the better of the better of the two."

The man nodded. "I suppose."

Al smiled at him, taking a sip of water from the glass in front of him. His interrogator didn't seem to entirely believe him. Like many, the man also seemed to think immortality without touch, without taste was better than the loss of four years for the four he spent inside of the armor. After nearly orgasming—which had been embarrassing as he'd done it in front of Lieutenant Hawkeye and his father—at a simple bacon cheeseburger, he knew he could never trade the ability to feel, smell, taste, touch. Not even if it had taken forty years from him.

"And this accident," the officer asked after a pause, "it was the one where your brother lost his limbs?"

"It was." Al again took another sip.

"Is that normal for two children to be able to perform that kind of alchemy?"

"No it isn't," Al said. The man looked smug, as though he had found some kind of flaw in the story, but Al was sure he didn't suspect what exactly the flaw was. Al was confident in that. "I think that was why Brigadier General Mustang offered my brother a position as a state alchemist and allowed me to take the test as well. Considering my condition in the armor, however, I could never pass a physical, so I dropped out of the running and helped my brother."

Al was calm, nothing in his face or eyes showing any sign that he was feeling nearly as smug as his interrogator had been a few minutes before. He couldn't explain it really, knowing that only a few months ago, he would have been intimidated much more easily. Perhaps it was a difference of no longer feeling as though he was eleven and now felt all of the nineteen years his body told him he was. Perhaps it was the fact that for once, he got to do something for his brother. Regardless of what the reason was, he was not afraid. He was confident.

0o0o0o0

Heymans Breda was filing motions and signing paperwork, trying to find some solution to at least keep Riza and Al out of custody.

"You really should have joined JAG," a smooth voice said to his right.

"Sorry," Heymans answered, signing yet another document, "but I couldn't pass the physical to make it in. I actually had a heart."

The other man laughed, all too familiar from the Academy's law school, where the redhead had been a student and Anton had been an assistant professor, grooming the next set of attorneys for JAG. "Still a joker, Breda." 

"Naturally," he said. "Everyone loves a joker. It is also far more disarming than a snake. A joker can pull a punch. A snake is expected to be a snake."

"Harsh words," Anton said. "Now, what is it that you hope to achieve by filing all of these forms?"

"You have just captured the major and brigadier general's sole caregivers," Heymans said. "As neither is capable of maintaining proper care if they are imprisoned and will be released from the hospital soon, it is my request that they remain on house arrest, with both Alphonse and the lieutenant there to keep watch over them."

Anton leaned over the table, where Heymans continued to work. "I assume you have put in the request for our two injured rebels to remain on house arrest at Mustang's home?"

Heymans met the man in the eye. "What are you playing at, de Havilland?"

"A simple question," Anton said. Breda's murky brown eyes twitched as they scanned over the blond's pale features to see any sign of deception, though he doubted he would manage to discern anything. He remembered the older man from school and knew he kept everything close to his chest.

"Well, you can fight it all you want, but I've covered every contingency," Breda said, defensively. He felt certain something was up; it had to be with this man.

"I would expect you would, but you are wasting your efforts." Anton smiled over at him. For the younger man, it brought back memories of when he was considered one of the top candidates for a JAG attorney.

"Judge Campbell will allow it, you know. He doesn't think the way you do."

"I'm sure he will," Anton said. "My point is that you do not need to make these motions and contingency plans. I have no intention of opposing you. Your brigadier general and major along with their two sidekicks may stay in the comfort of Mustang's home."

Breda looked at him in surprise, but Anton was already moving away. "Never think a snake can't pull a punch. We just tend to do things the other way around."

0o0o0o0

"And you shot him?" the man interrogating Riza asked.

"Did I somehow misspeak? I believe I told you I did," she said, calmly.

"Why did you shoot a superior officer?"

"He was nearly unrecognizable as the Colonel at that point, and he was firing at me, then at the brigadier general."

"Did you know that the brigadier general was planning to kill the fuhrer, as he has admitted to doing?"

"Considering the things we learned about the fuhrer and how he had manipulated us, I would not have been surprised by anything any of us did to the man."

"Us? Was there a group? A rebellion?"

"No, I am speaking of soldiers who served in Ishbal," Riza answered, calmly. "I doubt if anyone heard what was done they would sympathize too much with our deceased leader."

"So no remorse at all?"

"Afraid not."

"And for the death of the colonel?"

"He opened fire on me before I fired a single shot," Riza said. "He had no idea if I even had a gun. I was defending myself and my superior officer at that point. Even with reasonable certainty that I had a gun, he could not shoot without asking questions first or arresting us. He was half automail and behaving like someone possessed. You cannot tell me that he was not capable of that."

"You shot a superior officer and your commanding officer admitted to assassinating the country's leader. What either of them have done in their pasts or what they are capable of is not the issue here either. The fact is that you are being charged with a crime."

"The fact is that I have just given you more than enough reasons to justify my actions," she said. "But you are not listening."

"I do not listen to killers. I interrogate them."

"Well, pardon me if I do not feel that those things should be somehow related."

The interrogator glared at her, but Riza did not flinch. Whether she had her guns on her or not, she was much too strong to let some petty little man bother her.

0o0o0o0

"They really are going to try to persecute me?" Ed asked Roy, sounding more helpless than he wanted to sound. He also felt it was a selfish question, considering where Al was at the moment, but for just once in his life, he felt selfish. Even a little bitter at his own brother—though he wouldn't dare admit it aloud.

"The word is prosecute, Fullmetal," Roy said, standing and going to Ed's bedside. "And it looks that way."

Ed wrapped his arm around himself. "I meant what I said the first time." Gold eyes looked up at Roy's dark one. "What do you think they'll try to do? They're charging me for being AWOL, right?"

"They are, but there is a lot of evidence to show you were held against your will," Mustang told him. "I really think your charges will be dropped." The older man lowered the metal bars that held Ed in at night and sat just on the edge of the teen's bed, turned so that he could face him. His right hand tentatively rubbed over Ed's automail arm in a comforting gesture.

"I can't feel that, you know," Ed said, though he knew that was exactly why he wasn't running away at the innocent gesture. Had it been anywhere real on his body I would have caused a violent reaction. Roy just shrugged and continued to do it.

"I think more than likely, they will pin your capture off on someone else. Likely on me."

"Like you said earlier, the JAG attorneys were all hired under the fuhrer. They want revenge. My only hope is for the judges who were appointed by parliament."

Ed looked down at his cast, thinking back to how his therapist had told him he could trust Mustang. He didn't want to trust anyone, and a few months ago, the idea that it might be his commanding officer was laughable, but after how much the man had done so far, it didn't seem quite as ridiculous. "Do you think they could try to make it look like I wanted it?"

"I don't see how. There is still a double standard when it comes to men and women involved in rape."

Mustang paused, and the teen realized his commanding officer was waiting for him to calm. That single word had caused Ed's entire body to tense up and forced him to shut his eyes tight. He didn't even register he'd done it until that pause of the man's deep steady voice.

"Take a few deep breaths, Ed," Mustang said. He didn't apologize for bringing it up like Al and Winry did, and he didn't dance around the subject like some of the workers and Riza. He just helped Ed get over this moment so they could continue talking. It was reassuring, in a way, that the older man didn't push a topic, but wouldn't skip over it as though he was frightened of it.

Ed opened his amber eyes and looked up at the single raven-colored one. "Better?" Mustang asked. He nodded. "Can I go on?" Another nod. "The double standard is still there, but not so strongly as years before. Fifteen years ago, a young, teenaged boy pressured into sexual relations with an older woman would have been treated as something that the teen should be grateful for, a boy's dream."

Ed's brows furrowed, creating just the slightest crease where they met. "But it's rape." He felt proud of himself for being able to say the word, if even for a situation so different from his own.

"So few see it that way," Roy said, this time squeezing Ed's hand and seeming to stare at the cream hospital wall.

This, of course, led to an interesting scene for Jean Havoc to unintentionally disrupt, looking at the two on the bed, and at their clasped hands.

0o0o0o0

Anton found himself under the scrutiny of Judge Campbell, the older man's blue eyes watching him carefully as Heymans Breda passed his motion.

"You really have no objections to my acceptance of these motions?" the judge asked.

"None at all," Anton said. "It solves quite a few of our problems, actually, with housing the four. Considering the many problems we have in housing a civilian who is underage and yet not in a military prison, the fact that both Mustang and Elric need someone to help care for them and need more care than the prison can afford to give, and that we need a single location to keep them all, I have no opposition to Lieutenant Breda's request.

The judge actually seemed doubtful of Anton's honesty. The younger man just looked at him and smiled. "Innocent until proven guilty, your honor. And even if guilty, this does eliminate a number of problems until we can get them in jail or executed as they would deserve. If guilty, of course."

And if seeming to show some consideration to the captives could help the attorney win some points with the judge, he certainly wasn't going to complain with that. This truly did serve all necessary purposes.

Still, Judge Campbell, a man known to believe in justice and law was not about to simply believe that somehow Anton had a change of heart, but the blond man knew it was in his best interests to appear as though he was trying to do the best possible thing for everyone. He could go in like he was seeking revenge for those trying to establish a new government that would almost surely disapprove of him and the current JAG attorneys. Probably uncover their pasts as well, and that was something that the chief of the department could not afford. At all.

0o0o0o0

"Oh, oh, I'm sorry," he said. Roy looked over his shoulder at the man, half regretting it because it pulled his left shoulder more than was comfortable considering the still-healing stitches.

"Just come in, Jean," Roy told him. "What is it?"

"Breda got the approval for you all to be put on house arrest at your place, Roy, and since it's easier to guard one place and you and the boss have been… well, close… since everything, it just made sense to put you together instead of sending him back to the dorms, which are harder to guard and have lots of people coming and going from them, and since you… kind of need one another, but need Al and Riza, who are your caregivers or something like that, Breda got the approval for them to stay there with you once you're released from here tomorrow, and armed guards will stand out front to make sure you can't escape, but the team will be left in to see you at specified times and so will Miss Rockbell, so I'm here to tell you, which I did, so I'll go."

Roy looked amused as he watched Havoc leave. He then looked down at Ed, saying to the teen, "I think that was all in one sentence."

"One breath too," Ed said, surprising Roy by actually finding the ability to give a small laugh.

Roy found it in himself to smile at the teen despite their situation. "I think we startled him, holding hands like this."

And almost as soon as it was out of his mouth, Roy regretted his words, watching as once again, Ed withdrew physically and emotionally.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Roy watched from the car as his home came into view, though he was currently seething at the two guards in the seat opposite him. Really, what did they think he and Fullmetal were going to do? He could forgive the two guards in the seat at either side of him. Two were understandable, and he could sit up easily. It was the two sitting next to Ed that were making him so angry. Sitting upright for any length of time was difficult for the younger man, particularly considering the broken leg that needed to be kept elevated.

At the moment, it rested in Roy's lap, and the brigadier general wasn't complaining. He knew it was necessary for Ed to keep it upright, but the fact that the two men were sitting so close, resting right against the teen, that was what was making Roy angry. He only had to look at Ed to see that he was practically hyperventilating at the close contact with the two males.

Roy merely held the teen's gaze as best he could until the car came to a stop in front of his home. Once there was the familiar lurch and halting of movement, Roy watched the two soldiers near the door to Roy's right exit the vehicle. They got the wheelchair out for the teen and began setting it up.

"They will have to help you get into the chair," Roy explained. "But I'll be here the whole time." Ed only nodded. If the older man could have helped Ed into the chair, he would have, but his left arm was still too weak to do much of anything, though the doctors assured him it was "healing nicely."

Although Roy was still angry at the fact that Ed had been crammed into that seat with the soldiers like three sardines, he had to admit that the one who had been on Ed's left and the one from Roy's right were being as gentle as possible with the teen as they helped him from the car and into the chair. It didn't stop the terrified look from washing over Ed's entire face, but they were doing exactly what was necessary.

Roy was allowed to exit the vehicle next, as the soldier who was now along on Ed's seat exited from the left door, the one who remained behind helped to guide Roy out the right. One soldier did his best to take care of Ed's wheelchair while the other offered a hand to the brigadier general.

Stubbornly, Roy did not take the hand, but he did manage to exit the vehicle and wait for the armed guards to flank him to his own house. With the bars that had been added to each window and door, Roy thought his home looked more like a prison than a home any longer. He was tempted more than he'd admit to turn them into ghastly decorative features when this was all over, maybe even sooner.

The military engineers had built a sturdy, though aesthetically unappealing ramp to the front of Roy's porch. For just a moment, he smiled at that. For as ugly as the changes to his home were, and as much as he hated them, he had to admit that the idea that this was irritating the homeowners' association in his neighborhood brought him at least some pleasure. Perhaps the military's law system had allowed them to temporarily remove the sticks out of their collective asses. Perhaps they were allowing this with hopes that it would get rid of the man who regularly set things aflame in his back yard and would leave scorched patches of grass without re-sodding the "eyesore" in their precious upper-middle-class neighborhood.

If only they had any idea of how juvenile the brigadier general could be. He'd have to tell Ed about the times he'd used alchemy to set aflame bags of dog crap—many of which were donated by Black Hayate—on each and every doorstep and even some of the air control he had through his alchemy to bang on each of their doors.

Ed might appreciate that. Stories like that, it seemed, took Ed's mind off of the present, off of the recent past. If there was alchemy involved, he would probably then inform Roy of how he could have made the prank better or less obvious that he had been the one to perpetrate it.

Getting Ed's mind off of things was proving more difficult with each passing day. Roy could take a guess at what was troubling him, but really, there was so much that could be. Ed might have to testify to what that damned bastard had done to him, and that naturally had Ed upset. Including the concern of having Al on trial, possibly even Roy, though the older man wasn't sure he ranked so high in the teen's book just yet. There were also the old fears, like the discovery of the human transmutation the brothers had performed as children.

Roy didn't envy Ed the prison that was his mind.

"This is where you live?" Ed asked.

"When I'm in Central," Roy said. "Though the bars are a new addition."

"It's funny they think this can hold us in," Ed said to him. "We're alchemists. If we really wanted to escape, we could."

"No, sir," one of the soldiers said. "You couldn't. An alchemist came and activated defensive transmutations on the structure of the house. You can perform alchemy inside, but nowhere can you perform it on the outside."

"However, if given the word, a number of your guards would be willing to help you out, should you ever require it. The others nodded.

"We know what you have done for this country, Sir. We have guarded people who obviously did nothing wrong, and we hope we will not be doing so ever again," the first said.

Roy smiled and nodded at them.

A third soldier spoke up. "I must also inform you, as the person who installed them in your home, the bugs in your kitchen, living room and dining room are functioning properly, but they are faulty in the bedrooms and bathrooms. And the ones in the hallways do not seem to pick up very clearly."

They all entered Roy's home, though Ed looked at the final soldier who'd spoken curiously. Roy realized he would have to explain that this was a gift to them that the soldiers didn't have to give. They didn't have to inform the two men that they would be bugged, and they certainly didn't have to give them safe places to talk. But they had.

0o0o0o0

Heymans Breda rubbed his temples, trying to find a loophole he must have missed somewhere.

"Sir," Falman said at his left. "You have been at this all night. Is it possible that you didn't miss anything?"

"Anton de Havilland does not do anything without some benefit to himself. I know the man." Heymans skimmed through document after document. "I can't figure his reasoning on this. The fuhrer helped him in his career, I know that much. He would be out for blood, trying to make sure that the people who led to his downfall paid dearly."

"Could the fuhrer have been blackmailing him as well? With the fuhrer gone, is it possible that now it is in his best interest to side with us?" Falman offered. "Maybe he has seen some relief in the death of our former leader.

Heymans shook his head. "That doesn't seem right… or not entirely right. I mean, to look at the man's record, it is spotless."

"Perhaps it was the fuhrer keeping it so spotless. What if he held something, some secret, and used it to keep Captain de Havilland a hostage with it?" Falman suggested.

"Then he'd be just as desperate to keep the administration as it was to ensure he doesn't get caught." Heymans stood, shrugging off the military coat and soaked white shirt. "Maybe I'm looking at this wrong." He paced around the room a few moments, clad in his uniform pants, with their decorative flap and a damp white tanktop.

As he paced, he tried to ignore the look of disgust on Falman's face. "I sweat," Heymans said. "Deal with it."

Falman returned to gathering research and trying to find a way to get access to the fuhrer's files.

"Hmm…" Heymans said. "Campbell would be a wrench in everything wouldn't he?" He was asking Falman, and yet not. "He was appointed by parliament, not the fuhrer, and he has been known, thus far, to uphold the law. He has even made recommendations for appeals when he had to punish someone according to the law, but seen it as something that should not be punished."

Heymans looked deep in thought for a moment, and he could feel Falman's eyes on him as he pieced things together.

"He's the reason for this!" Breda shouted much too loudly for the little room at headquarters. "It isn't a loophole, or a mistake on my part. Anton knows that Campbell will see him as a villain. Especially if he goes after the boss. That means his chances of getting Judge Campbell to take any of his points seriously is practically nil unless he can convince the man he isn't a bad guy."

At this, Falman looked up. "Then with the right influence, you could likely get him to drop the AWOL charges against the major, couldn't you?"

Heymans nodded. "Regardless of how he wants to manipulate this," he said, "there is no denying that the boss was held against his will. He'll argue who did it, why it was done, but the boss was definitely tortured and held captive. AWOL is pointless. I think I can get those charges dropped."

"Why is it you never went into law, lieutenant?" Falman asked. "You look excited right now at having found a way to help the major. You definitely have a grasp for it as well."

"Anton," Heymans answered. "He showed me what a lawyer meant in the old administration, and I didn't like it."

0o0o0o0

Al was busy helping his brother get settled into what had once been the brigadier general's library. Now the room would serve as the brothers' bedroom.

"So, Winry said she was going to come and visit as soon as she got clearance," Al said to Ed. He was looking for any reaction from his brother, but all he got was a nod. "You know, I came to a decision. I don't think I would want to date her, myself."

"Well, you didn't inherit a thick skull," Ed said. "I doubt you'd be able to take a wrench very well now that you're not in armor."

"I don't think Winry would do that anymore, brother," Al said. "She seems much calmer. And she understands things better, too. You know, she and Shezka actually tapped the phone lines here at Central to try to find out what was going on. She wore a uniform and everything to get in."

Ed listened as Al, tactfully, tried to update him on everything that had been done or happened during his time as a captive. It wasn't easy to do without mentioning the fuhrer or Envy, but Al somehow managed it.

"Of course, that's not including all the gossip," Al said. "Everyone talks about everyone else's lovelife, you know. Havoc still isn't having any luck with women. Even now that he's not trying to date them to focus on everything that's been going on, when he tries to flirt with one, he gets smacked in the face. And Fuery, well, I feel bad for him. His boyfriend just broke up with him—"

"What did you say?" Ed asked, sounding far more interested than Al had seen him before.

"I said his boyfriend broke up with him. Last month, he started dating one of the warrant officers, who ended up dumping him while he was injured in the hospital," Al said.

"Boyfriend? No one cares about that?" Ed asked. "Mom used to say—"

"Well, Mom was raised a while ago and wasn't very worldly. I don't mean that as something offensive. She just, well, wasn't."

Ed nodded.

"Thankfully, most of the people here in Central are a little more open-minded about it. Love is love, you know?"

Ed nodded again, but looked thoughtful about it. There was just the briefest flash of pain, and it was obvious that this must have been a topic brought up by the two monsters who had hurt the young man so much. The small bit of hurt in Ed's eyes vanished again. "I've never really thought about what I think on it. How I feel about it. There are a lot fo things I never really thought about, or had time to consider."

"Well, plenty of time now, though Dad and I are still looking at ways to get your arm and leg back. I haven't given up on that," Al said.

"Really?" Ed asked, and it was obvious he was trying to make it sound like it was a simple question, but the undercurrent of bitterness showed just how loaded the question really was.

"No, I haven't given up."

But the disbelieving look in his brother's eyes said to Al that Ed thought otherwise.

0o0o0o0

Riza sat, cutting an apple at Roy's bedside. He'd taken his new pain medication just twenty minutes before and she was trying to get him to eat something other than the single piece of toast now that it was in his system.

"None of this really seems fair," Riza said. "In a more perfect world, we would be seen as heroes for what we did." She sighed as she peeled the apple, as she knew her commanding offer preferred, but would never admit to. "In a more perfect world, he would never have been fuhrer. This wouldn't have been necessary."

Roy's eye was somewhat glassy as he looked at the woman in the hard wooden chair. "The world isn't a perfect place, but it's there for you, and that's what counts. That's what makes it so damned beautiful." He then touched Riza's hair.

Riza shoved a chunk of apple in his mouth. "Eat up, sir," she said. "I think taking that pain medication on an empty stomach might have been a bad idea."

"I feel fine, Riza," Roy said. "A little hot though. Do you think it's hot in here? I think it's hot in here."

"Eat. I need to call the doctor," Riza said. She took the knife with her and left the pieces of apple on Roy's blanketed lap.

"Whatever you say Riza. I'm still hot, though." Roy was pulling at the collar of his pajama top.

Riza left the room and went to the downstairs phone, calling one of the few numbers permitted from Roy's home until the end of the court trial. She realized with her longtime friend's flirting, that there was something wrong. The two had decided years ago that nothing would work between them, and all flirting was kept on a strictly joking level. Between the glassy look in Roy's eye and his flirting, there was no denying that something was wrong.

Riza waited for one of the nurses to answer the phone when she heard a voice coming from upstairs. "It's too hot in here! Riza can you open a window?"

Riza watched in shock as Roy started to come down the steps stripping himself f his robe, then fumbling with his pajama shirt.

"Alphonse!" Riza said. "Roy's having a reaction to his painkillers, stop him before he strips himself completely."

She couldn't even imagine what that might do to poor Ed, but Al was out of the room in a flashe and easily took down Roy. It was odd to think that the nineteen-year-old body of Alphonse was so much stronger than that of her commanding officer. Taller too.

She watched as the long brown hair swung behind his shoulders, wrapping arms carefully around the dark-haired man.

"Brigadier General, sir, you can't keep taking off your clothes. It isn't that warm in here," Al said as he held onto him. "It's your medicine that is making you think that.

"No, it can't be. I'm dying here."

Then, Roy glanced into the library. "Ed are you warm? I think these two are just cold-blooded. I know you're not. Are you hot?"

"I'm not hot, Mustang. You're just crazy from the meds," Ed's voice said, far stronger than it was when he talked to anyone else. "Go back to bed and Lieutenant Hawkeye will take care of you."

And, to Riza's surprise, Roy seemed to listen, a little at least. He continued to strip down to his boxers on his way to the bedroom, but did go back there.

0o0o0o0

A few hours had passed, and Ed was still thinking about how unexpected Roy's little reaction to his medicine had been. Though, if Ed really had to admit it to himself, it was somewhat amusing to see Roy like that. He had been out of his mind with the medication, but not once had Ed feared him. It was confusing, but the teen did his best not to think about it too much. He didn't want to know why; he just wanted to enjoy that here was a person who, despite their past arguments and the times Ed felt he'd been used—which upon reflection he'd realized were only the older man's attempts to do what was right—despite it all, he could trust. All Ed had to hear was how people spoke of Roy, sending out special assignments, even participating in the search for Ed himself, to know that the older man had not once given up that one day, Ed would be found.

Roy had never given up in him. Not even now.

He had more trouble believing that about his own brother, and he knew that some of Mustang's team felt that Ed might be really gone, but yet, the man himself hadn't. The way that made him feel, too, caused him some trouble. That warm feeling in the pit of his stomach, something that helped chase away the cold of the rest of his world. That was something in itself.

So when Ed heard the man's voice from the doorway, and saw him looking a little more haggard than he had at the hospital the last day or so, he was startled.

"I'm sorry, Fullmetal," he said.

"Don't be. You couldn't help it," Ed said. "I saw Auntie once do the same thing. And if you want to talk about wishing you were blind, try for just a second to imagine being nine and seeing Pinako Rockbell running around her yard in her bra and underwear from a reaction to codeine."

Roy shuddered and then laughed.

Ed had made him laugh, and he was proud of that fact.

"Such a horrible thing for a young mind to witness. Especially when she was like your grandmother."

Ed nodded. Roy was closer to the bed now, though the teen couldn't remember seeing him move.

"Breda thinks he can get our charges dropped," Roy said. "Riza was just telling me that he's going tonight to talk to the head of the military's JAG attorneys."

"Really? So that means I won't have to testify in court?" Ed sounded more hopeful than he'd like.

"No, no one is going to force you to testify."

Ed breathed a sigh of relief before realizing what Roy was saying. He wouldn't be forced, but the best defense the other man had was Ed, and the young man just couldn't make the promise that he could manage it. He still had not recounted his entire story to anyone. He didn't know if he could.

So he put his right hand on Mustang's arm, trying to convey what he was thinking at the moment.

"Do you think there's any chance of them knowing about Al and me?" Al's case was just as much of a concern as his own, if not more.

"No, there's no way they could know about human transmutation. Thankfully for you, the people involved in this are lawyers, not alchemists."

0o0o0o0

Anton sat at the lead investigator's desk, reading over the reports the man had gathered. He had been as thorough as possible, but he knew the man was still missing something from Alphonse Elric's story, and he had a sneaking suspicion what it was.

As he read, he tapped his first two fingers from each hand together and shifted the plain metal paperweight into a grizzly bear. He did it again, this time into a lizard.

"Wow."

He looked up to see the investigator looking at him in awe. "Captain?" Anton said.

"Don't know why you're a lawyer, when it looks like you could have been an impressive state alchemist," the man said.

"I felt I was useful elsewhere." He looked down at the metal dragon. "I will return it back to it's original shape—"

"No, don't do that," the man said, hastily cutting Anton off. "It's much better than that plain thing I had before." He walked over and picked the new paperweight up, moving its new hinged joints. "Second lieutenant Breda is out front waiting on you. He said he wants to talk to you about Edward Elric's case."

Anton nodded. "Thank you, Captain." He walked out of the room, leaving the other man to admire his handiwork.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: I rarely do these, but I received a review that I felt I needed to respond to._

_fuujin no mai,_

_I realize there are some western themes in this story, as well as the American term: JAG. I have tried to go back and further clarify that JAG stands for Judge Advocate General, and is the office from which all of the military attorneys operate. However, I will not be removing the term from the story. Admittedly, it is an American term. Nevertheless, there is no mention of any such office in canon, so I borrowed from what I know, though the military would reasonably have something of the kind. It was either borrow what I knew or make something up, so I took the option that was at least initially familiar to some of my readers. The middle names were an addition I put in because the two situations are ones where if a person has one, it's likely to be stated. As the world of Amestris is really no specific region in our world, but has more correlations with Germany by most accounts, which uses middle names, I felt that it was a safe bet they might have middle names. Amestris is not east, west, north or south in terms of Earth. It is a country that borders the equivalent of Russia on the north, China on the east, England and France on the West, and the mediterranean countries on the south, to my understanding. Because of that, I borrow from my culture as well as others. It does not mean I will be removing the Americanisms as they are likely to appear despite myself, being an American, but I will make a more conscious effort to ensure they are better defined._

_I'll also ask my friends in other countries if they understand them with my definitions to try to ensure for those who are not Americans, whether or not that is something they are "lucky" to be or not. (I will assume that was a general statement on your part and not a put-down of my nationality for the sake of being cordial here.). After all, I do not have a publisher to ensure there are different versions of this for each country, as people like JK Rowling must use for their stories when they go international._

_I do appreciate that you said you think the story is good. And if there are any further American terms that confuse you, please do not hesitate to let me know. I am willing, if you would leave an e-mail or if you can log in here at to define anything or discuss this at greater length._

_Nom_

**Nightmare**

**Chapter 9**

"So you expect me to drop the charges against Edward Elric?" Anton asked, and not for the first time in his life, Heymans hated the difference in their height. Anton was fairly tall, and Heymans was just on the short side of average. It gave the blond the ability to look down upon the redhead at every encounter.

"I do," Heymans answered. "Because there is no denying that the major was held against his will. All a person has to do is look at his medical records to see that. He definitely did not leave of his own free will."

"And what of his other crimes?" Anton asked. "There are other things in his past that I find highly suspicious."

"He has been a fairly upstanding member of the military, and one that has never had to even be brought up on review."

"I do not know what you intend to prove by digging through the major's records," Heymans said, "but do you really think he's going to go anywhere while you hold him for false charges?"

Anton folded his arms, his face thoughtful for a moment, but Heymans had a feeling he had anticipated this. There was no need for the show of thought on this subject. He'd expected this, and it irritated the hell out of Heymans "Will you agree to him remaining under house arrest with the brigadier general?"

Heymans nodded. "As long as his brother remains there as well."

Anton shrugged. "Fine. Though you should be aware that I'm paying Mustang a visit."

"You can't right now. He's just been through a reaction to his medication."

"I do not believe there is anything in Amestris law preventing me. And as the prosecuting attorney, I do have the right to interrogate him." And then, Anton smiled that annoyingly smarmy grin, giving Heymans the slightest bow of the head as he left, leaving the redhead following behind, absolutely fuming and raving at the man he'd once worshipped in law school.

0o0o0o0

Riza rubbed a cool cloth over Roy's head. "How are you feeling today?"

"In pain," Roy said. "Why can't I have the medicine they gave me at the hospital?" he asked.

"Because they don't trust me to administer morphine, Roy," she said. "I'm sorry."

"What do they think you'll do? Kill me? I'd think Captain de Havilland would be happy to see that happen."

Riza said nothing, but she continued to rube over his forehead with the damp washcloth. She looked at the man who had been a part of her life from the time that she was a teenager. Everyone always assumed that she and the man she was currently taking care of would one day marry, but he was too much like her older brother. Just as she shook her head and disapproved of everyone he dated, he was overly intrusive about finding out about her own relationships.

It was why Roy trusted her to care for him as he had so far. Riza was more than aware of how precious trust from Roy Mustang really was. The group that truly had his trust were those he kept closest to him, and it seemed Edward Elric.

"How is Ed?" he asked.

Riza said nothing about it, but more and more often, Roy had been calling his teenaged subordinate by his first name. "Fullmetal" had faded into the background. "He is doing as well as can be expected."

"He didn't seem afraid of me yesterday. I would have thought he would be."

"Edward has a comfort level with you that he doesn't with anyone else. I am grateful for it. Not only is he calmer when you are around, but he managed to keep you from putting on a strip tease for all of us here."

Despite the pain, Roy turned red at that. "Just what I need. Charges of indecent exposure added to all of this."

"Thankfully, we all just saw your boxer shorts," Riza said with a smile as she went to dip the cloth in the bowl of cool water. "And Ed only saw your bare chest. Nothing embarrassing about that."

"For you," Roy said. "You know, if Ed had been his old self, I'd have never heard the end of the flab at my middle."

"Is Roy Mustang insecure?" Riza said, a hint of teasing in her voice.

"No." Roy shook his head, then groaned. "When is the doctor going to be here?"

"I don't know, Roy," Riza said, moving the cloth down to his neck. "The hospital is trying to find an effective alternative painkiller right now."

She could hear noise coming from downstairs and wondered what could possibly be going on.

She saw a man, with blond hair slicked back with incredible precision. His movements were, fluid and yet not. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something familiar in his walk, aside from the fact that the man evoked a brief memory of Frank Archer.

"You cannot interview him in this state," Breda said to the blond as he tailed behind him. They were nearly to the entrance of the library, and she saw the taller man glance into Ed's makeshift bedroom before making a start for the stairs.

"I can interview him as the law allows me," the stranger said. He glanced up and saw Riza standing there. "Ah. First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, granddaughter of General Grumman and wife Louisa, daughter of fire alchemist Benjamin Hawkeye and his wife Elise. Sharpshooter and sniper during the Ishballan rebellion. One of the youngest members of the military to be put into active service, prior to Edward Elric."

Riza looked down into the piercing, pale blue eyes. "Sir?"

"Captain Anton de Havilland," he said. "I'm here to question the Brigadier General."

It was all the lieutenant could do not to look at the man in complete shock. "Sir, you can't just go in there. He is still withdrawing from his pain medication."

The blond smiled at her. "I completely understand that fact. However, this is the time I had set aside to speak to him."

Riza wanted to argue, but there was no hope in that. She could see it in Breda's face.

"As his attorney," Breda said. "I will be present. And I will also stop the questioning if it becomes too much for the brigadier general."

The captain chuckled. "So protective of him. Is he really worth it?"

"Yes, Sir," both Breda and Hawkeye answered in unison.

Anton smirked at that. "We shall see, won't we?" He looked to Riza. "You must stay outside."

The woman watched as the two men went into Roy's room, but she stayed nearby.

0o0o0o0

Ed's right hand was clenching tight to the railing of his bed, as he did every time something reminded him of his time being held prisoner. That voice…

_"Sir," the unknown man said, "I do not know why you are so certain about the Fullmetal Alchemist's current threat level, and I know better than to question. However, I do fear what will happen if you have me continue with the experiments at the new lab." _

_"It is not your job to question," the bastard fuhrer said. "My master and I did you a favor, covering for you when you made that mess. She even took the blame for your creation. You should be grateful." _

_"More like took the credit," the stranger uttered. _

_"Pardon me?" _

_"Nothing, Sir." There was a pause. "My concern is the type of specimen you continue to offer me for these transmutations. I hardly consider some of them really the type I would like to give such immortality. In a sense at least." _

_"I will admit that the one was a bit unpredictable, but the brothers served as a good guard for quite some time." _

_"And what of a red stone? Mine is entirely used up and my loyalties are not so strong that I would give up a limb." _

_"I know how strong your loyalties to me really are. However, you are a self-preservationist, and I know your loyalties to yourself are unbreakable." _

_"Correct as always, Sir," the stranger said. "But as I said, the stone…" _

_"You will have another one. I have no desire to see you lose more limbs. What use is an alchemist to us if he has to keep returning home to replace parts?" The fuhrer chuckled, but the stranger did not. _

"Brother?" Al asked. "What is it?"

Ed did his best to open up his eyes, which he had unintentionally closed shut. He saw his brother with his adult-looking face and concerned brown eyes looking at him. Ed tried to calm his breathing. He wanted to tell his brother what he knew, but it was so difficult to get out. And he wasn't even sure that he knew this for certain. The conversation between the man with that voice and the fuhrer had seemed like it should have made sense to him, and yet it didn't.

"Brother?" Al asked, getting closer.

"That voice…" Ed looked out into the hallway. "It was familiar. From… before. I heard it then. It was an alchemist."

Al moved to the door. "I will ask Riza," he said. "She might have a better idea."

Ed realized Al would have probably been out there finding out who the unknown person was, but with Ed's reaction to the voice and the memories it brought back, Al would never have ventured from the room.

The tall teen left the room, and Ed was left alone. He didn't know who the voice belonged to, but he'd heard it, less clearly, on other occasions. It was nearly as distinct as the fuhrer's own voice was. Ed shuddered, not wanting to think about that man's voice ever again. He didn't want to think about anything about that man.

He could hear Al and the first lieutenant talking easily with one another. He had only ever heard Mustang speak so casually to her, and he wondered at first why his brother was granted that same level of familiarity.

But as soon as the thought entered his mind, the reasons for it followed quickly behind. Of course they talked to one another like that. They understood a great deal more about where the other was coming from than anyone else in the world possibly could. Both had been held captive, both now were having to care for someone close to them, and both had been on the front lines of the revolution while Ed had been a captive. It made sense that the two of them would be so friendly with one another.

When Al returned, he had a serious expression on his face. "She said that was the head of the military legal department," he said. "He's fairly young and only a captain, but apparently, he got all of the pull in the JAG early in his career."

Ed shook his head. "No. He is an alchemist. One who works with redstones. I'm sure of it."

"Brother, you were only hearing a voice when you were in a terrible situation." Al took a seat next to him. "You can't be sure." Ed could tell by the look in Al's eyes that even if he argued that he was absolutely certain, he couldn't prove it to his brother. Al was being very good to him, but Ed couldn't help but believe he was being treated like a child. At least when the darker-haired teen wasn't feeling so guilty that it gave off an oppressive atmosphere throughout the room Ed had called home these last few months.

He could easily find a way to convince Al by invoking that guilt, reminding his brother that he had gotten his body back while Ed was still missing his arm and leg and mentally was even less whole than he had been before. Ed had used that card once or twice just out of sheer bitterness toward his brother. It wasn't mature, but after everything, Ed wasn't feeling all that mature.

"I just have to ask, Al, did it look like he had automail?"

"It didn't look like it, but I wasn't looking for it like Auntie always told us to do. Even if he was, he would be wearing the very best. His movements are… smooth."

Ed nodded. "I don't like this, Al. If he's the lawyer and I'm right… I don't like it."

Al sat by Ed's bed and put his hand up on the bedrail. It was as comforting a gesture as Ed would normally allow from his brother. He looked at the hand, far larger than Ed's were now, longer, leaner. He had managed to put his hand on Mustang's arm, so why was it still so damned hard to touch his brother with a hand that couldn't feel?

Ed lifted his right hand and made a motion to try to just lay the automail on his brother's hand. He wouldn't feel it, and Al would never intentionally hurt him.

And he put his hand on Al's for the first time since his rescue.

0o0o0o0

Roy looked up through the fog of his current pain at the blond man and Breda. "What the hell… I'd say I was hallucinating again if I didn't know for a fact that I was off my pain medication. Because it certainly doesn't make sense that you'd be here at the moment."

"Well, interesting way of introducing yourself," the man with the white-blond hair said.

"Pardon me if withdrawing from pain medication while still suffering from a bullet wound and a stab wound has me a little on edge."

The man smiled, and Roy knew he didn't like that smile. It was one that was carefully trained to all those loyal to the fuhrer. Juliet Douglas—or rather, Sloth, as he'd been told—had been an expert at it as had Frank Archer and even Zolf Kimblee despite his insanity. Even Roy, on occasion had sickened himself at his ability to use that same smile. "Naturally, this isn't the best of times for you, but I would be negligent in my duty if I did not at least make an attempt to speak to you about the recent death of our fuhrer."

Roy's single eye scowled at the man. "What duty?"

"I'm so sorry. I am Captain Anton de Havilland, head of the Judge Advocate General office's military attorneys."

"I always expected that post would be given to someone with a bit more experience," Roy said, trying to keep the conversation focused as far away from himself as possible, even if it made it look as though he'd never seen one of the many photos of the military attorney.

"Well, one would say the same about the position of brigadier general, would they not?"

"Perhaps, but I did start out as a major," Roy said. "But not everyone is a state alchemist."

"Not everyone wants to be," Anton said, and Roy realized that there was a level of understanding in that statement. This man was a lawyer, had always been, so why did he talk as though he had a knowledge of state alchemists of which most were oblivious to in the country.

"So what do you have to ask me?" Roy asked.

"Well, you see, I am willing to let your little major's AWOL charges drop," Anton said. "The problem is that your charges are something far more serious. You unequivocally admitted to assassinating the fuhrer. That isn't exactly something we can just ignore. Nor does my department particularly want to ignore it." Anton's eyes remained cool as he looked between Breda and Roy. "However, if you were to bring your major to testify at your hearing or court-martial, I'm afraid we might have to investigate into the alchemic accident that cost him his arm and leg and his brother his body." Roy wondered what kind of tactic this was. He couldn't possibly have known… "Or should I say that it cost him his leg? I would imagine that the barely legal practice of attaching his brother's soul to the armor was what cost him the arm."

Roy's eye widened and the muscles beneath the patch moved the same way, causing a stinging sensation throughout the left side of his face.

"I just wanted to inform you of where my case stood, in all fairness." Anton bowed his head. "Thank you for your time." He bowed his head and left the room.

Roy's hands fisted his sheets as the man left. He and Breda needed to exchange only a single look to let them know exactly what this meant: If Ed took the stand, he would find himself questioned and then charged with attempting human transmutation.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Ed could hear the other man coming into the room, even though the teen was technically still sleeping. He'd grown familiar to Mustang's presence over the last few weeks, and like it or not, he now noticed the man despite himself. He slowly rallied, eyes opening to mere slits, just enough to see the dark-haired man leaving.

"What did you want?" Ed asked. "It's late."

"I didn't mean to wake you, Ed," Mustang said. It seemed odd to the teen that he had gotten used to hearing his commanding officer call him Ed.

"It's okay," Ed said. "What did you want? You couldn't have just wanted to watch me sleep."

The man hesitated just a moment, but inevitably shook his head. "I just wanted to see how you were. Your brother fell asleep in the living room and Riza is out cold in the guest room."

"I'm here," Ed said, as saying he was "fine" would have been ridiculously untruthful and to say the truth was more than most wanted to hear.

Roy nodded numbly.

"What about you?" Ed asked. "You're moving around better than you have since your little performance earlier."

Roy turned pink at that, a startling color against his pale skin. "New meds," he said simply, as though he really didn't want to be reminded any more about his strip show.

"That's good," Ed said. There was a period of silence, an awkwardness that really surprised the teen after all they'd been through. "Listen, Al won't listen to me on this, but I thought maybe you would. That lawyer guy who was here earlier…" Ed saw the man flinched at the mention of the stranger with the familiar voice.

"Anton de Havilland," Mustang provided, calmly. "Head of the attorney portion of JAG."

Ed nodded. "Whatever his name is. You need to be really careful with him. I'm pretty sure he's an alchemist, which means he'll know things that other lawyers wouldn't."

Mustang neared Ed's bed and took a seat beside him, his face looking surprised by this, and yet not, as though Ed had unknowingly stumbled across an answer to something that had been troubling him. "What?"

"Ed, why do you think that he would be an alchemist?"

"Well…" Ed couldn't look the man in the eyes. He wasn't even sure how much of this he could say aloud. "One time while I was at m-m… the fuhrer's…" He looked up through his bangs to see what reaction the dark-haired man gave, but there was nothing, save for a single hand that reached up toward the railing of Ed's bed. "there was this voice. I know it was his. He was talking with ma-the son of a bitch. And he said about using redstones and not wanting to lose limbs."

Ed shook his head, not wanting to think about it, though he knew he had to do it. "I am sure he's an alchemist. Al didn't believe me, but I'm sure of it."

"I believe you, too," Roy said.

Ed's head snapped up. "Why?"

"Well, you are never wrong when it comes to your intuition on something," Mustang said.

Gold eyes narrowed as they started to analyze the other man's face. Ed didn't believe him that it was simply his intuition that Mustang was trusting. He didn't dare say it. He might have felt much more comfortable around the older man, but he was still afraid to question him.

"Anton insinuated knowing something about alchemy," Mustang said.

Ed nodded. "So that's why you believed me." He looked at the older man, and saw that he looked confused.

"I would have believed you, or at least investigated what you were saying, Ed."

Again, Ed's eyes searched the man's face, and to his surprise, he believed him. It didn't make sense that Mustang seemed to understand the way Ed was feeling more than anyone else. The teen just couldn't make sense of it all.

Ed looked up at the man. "Why is it that you will believe me, trust my judgment when no one else will? You treat me differently than they do."

"I will not say that I understand what you've gone through, Ed," Mustang said. "I don't think there are many people who could honestly say that. However, I will say that I can empathize with you."

"I guess you do see a lot as a soldier," Ed said to the older man.

Mustang's mouth opened, then shut again. "Yes, yes, you do. But you don't have to be in the military to experience them."

Ed looked at the man. "Then, does it make any sense to you that I cut my hair?" Ed asked. "It didn't seem to make much to anyone else. Al and Winry definitely didn't understand."

"Believe it or not, it did." Mustang's hand hadn't moved from Ed's railing, though the man was wise enough not to try to touch him. "You were trying to get rid of something that brought up bad memories, something that didn't feel like it was yours any longer."

Ed looked at Roy startled to realize that he was now thinking of him as Roy. "You didn't just witness something like this, did you?"

The man paused, looking away from Ed before shaking his head. "it was consensual," he said. "In a way, at least."

"So, that's why…" And, though he hadn't done it since that first time, Ed found himself again putting his hand on the other man. He put the automail digits over Roy's flesh ones. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to say you're sorry for something like that," the man said. "It's nothing."

Ed said nothing, only squeezed the flesh hand beneath his metal one.

0o0o0o0

Of course, if it had truly been nothing, it wouldn't have occupied Roy's thoughts when he finally went to sleep.

_"You look really nice in that," the woman said._

_"It's brand new," Roy told her. "is Bobby home?"_

_"He's visiting his father tonight," she said. "it's a long bike ride back to your house. Why don't you stop in here for a minute?" Roy was hesitant. Bobby's mother was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen, and he just knew if he was left alone with her, he'd make a complete idiot of himself._

_"I've got some hot chocolate in here," she said. "It wouldn't take a minute to mix up. It's such a chilly day for fall. You could probably use it."_

_Roy nodded and walked inside, though a little voice in the back of his head was telling him it was a bad idea and he'd end up doing something very stupid._

_The fourteen-year-old went into the house. He'd been there dozens of times before._

_"So did you get that shirt for your birthday?" she asked._

_"Yeah. At my party last week," he said._

_"You're getting to be such a grown young man."_

_Roy nodded. "I'm allowed to do more at Mom and Dad's store, too," he said._

_"You'll do a fine job with that. And how is your alchemy going?"_

_"Mom's taught me a lot. I wish she knew more about fire alchemy, though. It takes a lot of concentration and practice, but I think I could be really good at it."_

_"I'm sure you could." The woman returned with a mug of hot chocolate. Roy could smell her drink from where he sat. It smelled strongly of liquor and Roy could tell from the steam coming off of it that it was definitely hot._

_"It's called a hot tottie," she explained. "I enjoy them on cool days."_

_Roy seriously doubted anything that smelled like that could be enjoyable. He hated the smell and taste of alcohol. Still, the teem watched as the older woman brought the steaming drink to her lips and drank. She pulled the cup away and then ran a pink tongue over her ruby red lips._

_Roy wondered if his parents would mind him being here with her. They both seemed to like Bobby well enough, but his mom… well, Ms. Fogle had a lot of talk about her. She was the only divorced woman in their little town. She was also very young, only thirty, with a son who was thirteen. She also had the habit of dressing younger than she even was and wearing that rich, red lipstick like stage actresses and even the ones in the new moving pictures did._

_Roy still thought she was beautiful. To his fourteen-year-old mind, she was perfect._

_"You really do look very nice in that sweater, Roy," she said. "That color suits you, makes you look much older."_

Roy woke up with a throbbing headache as he tried to shake away the memory. Lynn Fogle, the woman who he'd trusted, who had been one of his best friend's moms, who had inevitably taken his virginity that night.

He hated to remember it. The act itself had been quick and pressured largely by the older woman. He'd been eager because he was barely fourteen and completely enamored with her. What came after was worse yet than the experience itself. Most felt that he couldn't have been pressured or reluctant because he was the male in the coupling, and men couldn't be raped or forced by a woman. Some tried to pin it on the older woman, but no one in the authority would believe them. It didn't even matter that she wasn't an upstanding citizen. Roy must have been an active, willing participant who knew what he was doing.

"Because obviously every fourteen-year-old knows the implications of sex," he muttered to himself in the darkness. He laid down and groaned. He didn't want to think about this. Not tonight. Not ever.

0o0o0o0

"Thank you for agreeing to meet my sister at the station," Armstrong said to a very tired Havoc.

"Sure. Why not? It's only…" Havoc looked at his wristwatch. "Three in the morning." He looked up at the normally boisterous older man, and couldn't help but notice he looked fairly docile. "You're not worried about her, are you?"

"Worried about my sister's safety?" Armstrong shook his head. "Olivier is capable of taking care of herself."

Havoc fought the smirk on his face. "You're afraid of her."

"Armstrongs do not fear their own family," the large man said, trying to sound far more adamant than he obviously was. "An Armstrong does not injure an Armstrong. It is unheard of."

"Unless they're your sister?"

For the first time in the lieutenant's memory, he saw the major's full mouth, as it gaped at him. The tall man's blue eyes looked away from him and toward the open space that would soon be the train from the north. "Olivier demands respect and obedience. If she does not get that… It is unpleasant."

"So she takes after your mother then?" Havoc asked, almost instantly regretting it.

"My mother is a beautiful woman with a kindness that is unimaginable," the alchemist turned on the younger man. "She may not have been born an Armstrong, but in her heart, she has the kindness and strength that has continued down the Armstrong line for generations. She raised my sisters and I as perfect examples of that same strength and heart, and we will pass on her own teachings through generations of the line.

"You saw my mother at a very formal education. You cannot speak of her as though she would be unpleasant or unkind. She is a warm woman once one gets to know her. Why, she helped father in his campaign in the South when he fought against rebels who were trying to undo the establishment of laws and regulations that the Amestris government had established. She also donates much of her time to area charities and orphanages—"

"Mother is a cold fish with a hardened demeanor, little brother. Do not oversell her 'warmth of heart,'" a silky, rich female voice said. Havoc looked beyond the very tall man to find a woman who seemed to be more of the stepping stone between Katherine and the major. Though, to look at the beautiful older woman, Havoc had to admit that even as a stepping stone, it was a great leap to go from Olivier Armstrong to Alex Armstrong. She had her hand on a sword strapped to her side, and might as well have been wearing a sign that said "don't mess with me."

"Sister," the major said, "it is very good to see you. Are you well?"

"Who are you?" she asked Havoc, entirely ignoring the brother who seemed to have shrunk almost ten inches in her presence.

"S-Second Lieutenant Havoc," the smaller blond answered.

"So you are the one who impersonated your commanding officer, are you?"

"I… Yes, sir, ma'am… um… Major General," Havoc stuttered.

"Your officer, he's Mustang, isn't he? One of the few men in this military that I genuinely believe has balls." She looked Havoc up and down. "I suppose for you to have impersonated him you must be in possession of a pair yourself."

"Sister, I was hoping that I could escort you to the homeplace—"

"I have just sat on a train for the last three days. I have no desire to go home and have Mother try to regulate my sleep and eating habits or have father pamper me. Surely the nightlife in Central cannot end at three a.m. If it does, I will seriously reconsider throwing in my hat for the position of Fuhrer."

"There is a bar that runs around the clock," Havoc said. "It is only for officers and their dates. I've never been, but Brigadier General Mustang used to frequent it."

"Well then, Second Lieutenant Havoc, consider yourself my date for the evening." She patted Havoc on his back so hard he lurched forward. "Brother, do me a favor and have my luggage dropped off at the house. I'll be home sometime around noon, or as soon as my 'date' here decides he's had enough."

Havoc followed behind the older woman, not knowing if he should be pleased that he was a "date" of sorts for such a beautiful woman or if he should be frightened of what she meant by "had enough."

0o0o0o0

Riza found herself roaming the halls of Roy's home late that night, or rather, early that morning. She was a normally active woman, and this constant state of nothingness was driving her mad. It had only been a few days, and with the prospect of a month at least of this, she nearly had herself stir crazy with just the thought. Really, by then, they'd have all killed one another, and she wondered if that wasn't de Havilland's plot. She couldn't imagine any of the four of them surviving for long. Well, save for Roy and the major. Those two were getting along almost frighteningly well.

Not that Riza wasn't enormously grateful for the change. She couldn't imagine if they were still yelling insults to one another, but she felt left out, somehow, when her closest friend and the major would talk to one another. This seemed particularly odd, as Roy had never kept much of anything from her, and Ed hadn't had that many people who really understood him. She had been one of the few, and had made it her job to help "translate" Edisms to Mustangisms. Really, she could have taught a class on the finer art. And now, neither seemed to need it. They were finally speaking the same language.

Looking in the living room at the tall teen sprawled out on the sofa, despite the fact that he had a bed in his own room, Riza felt she should at least be grateful that she was fluent in this new language. Al definitely did not. And he was completely out of the loop. He didn't seem to understand his brother any longer, and Ed was noticeably bitter that Al was whole and he wasn't. Not by a long shot.

The woman went into the living room and threw a blanket over the teen. She moved the book from his chest and brushed a few stray strands of hair from Al's face. She understood why he'd done what he did, even if it hurt both of the brothers that he'd done it.

She was startled as those nearly brown eyes opened. "Lieutenant Hawkeye?" he asked, voice raspy from sleep. He looked down at the blanket she had put on him. "Thank you."

"You're more than welcome, Alphonse. How are you feeling tonight?"

"I'm fine, lieutenant," he said.

"Riza," she corrected.

"Riza. I'm fine. I'm perfectly healthy."

"I wasn't inquiring about your health, Alphonse. This must be very trying for you as well. You do not need to be physically injured to feel emotionally or mentally drained. Caretakers rarely get the sympathy they are due."

"I'm not his—" Al shook his head as he sat up. "I don't want to think of myself that way, as his 'caretaker.' Most of the time when you hear that, it means that someone isn't going to get better, and he has to, just has to get better."

Riza sat beside him and wrapped an arm around him. "I know how you feel. I really do."

"I know you do," Al said, leaning into her touch, against her body. His own arm wrapped around her back. She turned so that she could better hold him, touch his face and hair. Each movement showed just how depriving those last four years had been for him. Just the simplest human contact meant the world to the teen.

Despite herself, the woman found tears prickling her eyes. He was such a sweet young man. He should never have been forced to suffer like this. After he got his body back, he should have been able to enjoy life, maybe with that Rockbell girl, maybe just travelling with his brother. He should have been able to hug Ed without the other teen recoiling from his touch because he'd been hurt so badly.

Life just wasn't fair.

If it had been, the fifteen-year-old in a nineteen-year-old body would not have been kissing her.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 **

Jean Havoc was only half-awake as he sat up in bed, a strange bed in a hotel that he guessed was still somewhere in Central. His head throbbed and his body felt as though it had been hit by a truck. The last thing he remembered was heading to the train station with Major Armstrong. Then, they met the general, and…

Jean remembered her dragging him off. There were some flashes of memory of them at a bar together, and her forcing him into a drinking contest. He looked under the covers of the bed, finding himself in only his boxers and let out a yell. Not only did that woman terrify him, but he didn't even want to think of the reaction from the major.

"Oh, good," the strong voice of the older woman came from the doorway. "You're awake."

He saw she was holding something strange in her hand. She was wearing just a thin nightgown, and the lieutenant's mind suddenly kicked into overdrive. He needed to recall any point in the early morning hours when he had done anything with this woman that could compromise his job and his life.

The tall woman, with her broad but feminine shoulders, curvy figure silhouetted by the light coming from the other room of the suite, came walking over to his bedside, a glass in her hand.

"Here, for your head, lightweight." She held out the glass to him. It was odd to look at her hands, knowing they were strong, seeing they were as well.

He took the glass and looked at its contents. "Why does this drink seem to be looking at me?" he asked, staring at the floating yellow orb in the inch of red liquid.

"It is called a prairie oyster. Best cure out there for a hangover."

"It's an egg yolk in there, isn't it?"

She chuckled. "You must really be a lightweight if you didn't figure that out immediately." Oddly enough, even as she terrified him, she had a nice laugh.

"You expect me to drink this?"

She simply raised a thin blond eyebrow, then shot him with a glare that just dared him to do anything but drink what he was certain was egg yolk, tomato juice and brandy.

Closing his eyes and tilting his head back, Jean swallowed the small amount of liquid, trying to disregard the feeling of the yolk as it continued, nearly whole, down his throat. With a shudder, he offered the drink back to the woman.

"General," he managed once he regained the ability to speak.

"Call me Olivier," she said as she took the glass to the other room. "After all, we have shared a bed."

Jean glanced to his left, seeing that, in fact, that side of the bed appeared slept on. "You said we slept together. Did we… you know…"

"Become familiar with one another in a religious sense?" the blond woman asked him. "Not at all. You were unconscious when I carried you up here, and I don't take advantage of an unconscious man. Moral dilemmas aside, it just isn't all that pleasurable when the partner's unresponsive." She tossed him his uniform. "You were rather entertaining up until that point of no return when I knew I'd be saddled with you, passed out."

Jean rubbed the back of his neck, as he chuckled quietly and awkwardly. "I'm glad to hear that."

"I have no idea why my sister was not interested in you," the general said as she went to her suitcase and retrieved her own uniform. "Then again, she was always a bit addle-brained."

Jean had been in the process of putting on his pants as the woman spoke, stopping when they were mid-thigh as he looked over his shoulder at her. It sounded as though the woman might have been interested in him, but that seemed impossible. Then, to add to his confusion, the nightgown dropped to her ankles and she stood before him in absolutely nothing.

For the first time in his life, Jean Havoc wanted to actually worship the same ground that the Armstrong family had walked on, to prattle on about their perfection just as the major did. Olivier Armstrong had a perfect body and Jean wanted now to pay homage to the ancestors of the line that had led to her creation.

Then, as his eyes met hers, her head turned over her shoulder much like his own, he looked away, trying to resume dressing.

She laughed. "If I had intended modesty, lieutenant, don't you think I might have used the bathroom?"

Jean's eyes widened as he looked at his knees.

"Besides, after meeting with you, I've decided we're going to be working in fairly close quarters as it is. I've decided that if I become fuhrer, I want you as my secretary."

"General," Jean said, pulling on his pants and trying to look at the woman as she stood in her bra and underwear, completely unashamed because she had nothing to be ashamed about, "I work for the brigadier general."

"Who may be executed in a month's time," she said, simply. She was so blunt it made Jean wince. "Of course, if you worked for me, you would have access to all the files available at that level of the military. For a man like King Bradley—who the hell names a kid King?—you know his files must have something interesting, maybe even helpful."

"Are you trying to coerce me?" Jean asked, proud he had come up with a word like coerce.

"Is it working? Because if it is, then I am."

0o0o0o0

The next day, Roy couldn't help but notice the odd silence between Riza and Al as they prepared breakfast. They moved like a well-oiled machine, but in the same breath, it was stiff and stilted. Mechanical.

Roy raised an eyebrow at them, figuring he would find out sooner or later what had happened to make them behave that way. At the moment, it was too early and he had slept far too little to really try to ponder what might have gone on between the teenager and his most trusted subordinate.

He made his way down the hall to check on Ed. He tried not to dwell on what he'd told the teen last night. He just hoped that the teen wasn't awake, wishing to avoid any further discussion of the subject.

He slowly shuffled down the hall to Ed's room, wishing his body didn't hurt so damned much at the moment. He could see the door to the library was closed, so he took that to mean that the teen must be asleep. Still, despite knowing that, Roy was tempted to make sure that Ed was at least okay.

He opened the door to the room as quietly as he could and stuck his head inside slowly.

"I'm not asleep, so you might want to stop what you are doing or just come inside," Ed said from his bed. Roy groaned as he realized he had been caught. "Like I thought. You hoped I'd be asleep."

Roy walked into the room, not liking the tone he heard in Ed's voice. "It was just a long night," he said, coming into the room.

"And you were afraid I would ask more?" Roy didn't answer that. "I was actually going to suggest that what happened last night wasn't equivalent exchange." Ed looked down at his legs. "Or were you afraid of that too?"

Roy was too shocked to really answer as the realization struck that Ed was offering to tell him about his encounter with Pride. His first instinct was to tell the teen that he didn't have to tell him because he knew how hard it would be and because he was frightened of what was done to the young man. However, his common sense was kicking in and telling him that he needed to let Ed tell him. If Ed was willing to talk about all of this, it was a step in the right direction. Roy just didn't know if he was quite ready to hear it.

"It's okay," Ed said, apparently taking Roy's silence as a negative sign. "If you don't want to—"

"I didn't say that. I didn't say anything," Roy said. "I was surprised. That's all." He shut the door and headed to the young man's bedside. "If you want to…" He didn't dare suggest Ed was ready to admit he wanted to do this. "make things equivalent, then we can do that."

When Roy saw two gold eyes looking up at him, in a move that would have once been obscured by the long bangs, he was unsure whether he had said the right thing or not. There were so many things there in those eyes—Ed had always been easy to read, otherwise, he would never have been so effortless to bait to get him angry. Roy could now see anger, fear, relief, shame all wrapped into that single look.

Roy sat down on the chair at Ed's bedside.

They sat and just looked at one another for some time. Roy knew he was studying Ed's face without any doubt, and he could guess by Ed's flickering eyes, he was scanning Roy's face as well. A few times, Ed tried to start, tried to tell Roy just one thing about what happened, and his mouth would shut as soon as it opened, and his cheeks would turn a burning red. Even as Roy offered his hand and Ed again took it, he just couldn't seem to get the words out.

They sat there for nearly ten minutes in silence before being interrupted with Al and Ed's breakfast tray.

"Um… am I interrupting something?" Al asked, sounding less like he was sorry and more like he was accusing. Though Roy knew it was just the younger sibling's natural protectiveness coming out, he couldn't help but glare at the hidden insinuation in the teen's words. Roy met the young man's gaze, but he did not release Ed's hand as he did.

And much to the brigadier general's surprise, Ed's hand didn't move either.

0o0o0o0

Hohenheim Elric realized the second chance he'd been given at life. It was a second chance he hadn't wanted or asked to happen. The man looked at the heavily-guarded brick house, knowing he had permission to visit his youngest—could he really call Alphonse that now? Physically he was three years older than Ed, and mentally he was nearly his older brother's equal in some ways.

Hohenheim shook his head, trying not to think about it. He was far to afraid that if he visited Al, then Ed would see him and once again react violently to his presence. Hohenheim had done a despicable thing leaving his family, no matter what the reasons, but he didn't want to inflict further pain on his son just by his mere presence. He would do all he could to ensure Ed was recovering and that both his sons were going to stay out of jail, but Hohenheim would not visit in person as long as it hurt Ed that much to see him. So instead, the older man would do what he could to help from outside.

He nodded to the soldiers guarding the house. All of them knew he was Ed's father, and nearly every one of them gave him a strange look when he didn't go inside the home. Obviously, they expected him to do something, but they could not begin to grasp the history between him and his sons, especially Ed.

As Hohenheim left the front of this house and headed to Central Headquarters he ignored the shaking heads of the soldiers manning the front gate. Hohenheim knew better. Even if they didn't. He slowly headed down the street, walking away from the place where his sons were being held and to the only place he felt he could be of any use.

He smiled at a few women as he walked along the streets of the city, unable to stop the very familiar habit. He had sworn there would not be another until he could be with Trisha again, but he found it so hard to just turn of his natural ability to flirt with the opposite sex. But just because he acted more open than he actually was to a relationship did not mean he would betray the promise he'd made to himself to stay loyal to his late wife.

That thought in itself choked him up. He couldn't help but think about how he'd very nearly died seeing that homunculi Sloth. If it hadn't been for Al yelling out his name and eventually defeating the water-based monster, Hohenheim was certain he would be dead.

The streets were warm this time of year, but the man shuddered, remembering how Al had cried, really and truly cried despite the armor. Hohenheim had never wanted to hurt himself so badly as he had at that moment. All of this, every single bit of it had started with him, but he wasn't the one doing the bulk of the suffering. Everyone else was, most of all, his sons.

He walked up the front steps of the headquarters, not failing to notice how in disarray everything seemed now with the fuhrer dead. There were fliers throughout the place trying to ensure that this or that general gained favor. Many of them were for a man named Hakuro. Really, Hohenheim thought the man who had finally defeated the fuhrer deserved the title, but since he was currently facing court martial, he seriously doubted that would be happening.

The ancient alchemist saw the brigadier general's office was already thoroughly ransacked. He wondered if the man came back to work if half of his belongings would be returned to him. It was as though what was of use for the investigation had been taken, and then everything else had been stolen. Hohenheim shook his head. He hoped that the young man hadn't lost everything after all he'd done.

Finally, he found the room he was looking for, where the somewhat rotund redhead was pouring over law books and records.

He knocked on the open door to signal that he was there.

The man inside looked up. "Oh," he said. "Hello Mr. Elric. Was there something I could help you with?"

Hohenheim stepped into the room. "I was hoping to be of some use to you."

"You wouldn't understand how military law works, so I'm not sure—"

"You do not understand how alchemy works either. That is where I hope to be of some service to you. I believe I can find people to help your case."

"So you're offering me you as a resource?"

Hohenheim nodded to the man. "And I will do my best to contact other alchemists should you need them for your case. It is the very least that I can do after all that you have done for my son, and are trying to do for the other."

"I appreciate it, Mr. Elric."

"Hohenheim," the older man said. "And I hope you will not mind if I try doing some researching into the background of the opposing attorney. Something doesn't sit right with me about that man."

"Anton?" the redhead said. "You can investigate him all you want. He's going through this to save his hide anyway. A little persuasion wouldn't be a bad thing."

"Thank you lieutenant," Hohenheim said.

"Heymans," the redhead said, extending a hand, which the older man shook.

0o0o0o0

"Sit still!" Winry said loudly, her voice echoing through the hospital.

"Just get it over with," her client ordered back at her. She turned another screw a bit too hard, making the boy cry out in pain. "You did that on purpose!"

She glared at the dark-haired child. "And who are you going to get to attach automail to you?"

"Plenty of people," the boy responded back. "The rest of the world thinks I'm just a boy and wouldn't be as sadistic as you are." He glared at her. "Why are you even helping me?"

"Because Al asked me to, and Rose worked hard to bring you and her baby from the city," Winry said. She looked at him in his violet eyes. "There was a point that I pitied you, Wrath, but you—"

"Were corrupted by Envy," the sin said. "I didn't exactly have a choice in the matter."

Winry doubted that seriously, and her face definitely showed it. "Have you even checked on your mom?"

"I don't have one. I just have a creator that I have no desire to ever see again." His face turned dark. "She abandoned me to the Gate. She just turned me over, and you expect me to just forgive that." He laughed bitterly as she finished the final adjustments.

She watched him flex his hand. "What will you do now?" she asked.

"Be free of all of this," he said. "All of you." He tested out the automail a few times before heading to the open window. "I guess I should thank you, if I did that kind of thing." And with that, he was gone.

Winry looked on after him as he ran down the street and disappeared. She wondered if she would see him again. Part of her hoped that she wouldn't, fearing the trauma it might cause to her already damaged friend—she supposed it was best to still call him a friend, though she hoped one day it could be more. There was another part of her that had the slightest foreboding feeling that they would need Wrath in the near future.

There was a knock at the door to her make-shift operating room in the Central Civilian Hospital. "Come in," she said.

A nurse came in. "The patient…" She was obviously confused.

"He ran out," Winry said. "I feared he might once he was completely mobile. I couldn't stop him."

The nurse folded her arms and nodded. "I had suspected the same thing, to be honest, though this will mean another report for me and a statement from you."

Winry guessed that the woman had encountered Wrath's inhuman strength to be so accepting of the fact that he ran off. She looked up at the woman, the understanding passing between them both.

"Well," the nurse said, letting her arms relax again at her sides, "you have someone here. An attorney. A bit greasy for my liking."

"No one asked you your oh-so-humble opinion of me, ma'am," the man said as he stepped into the room. He was probably around the nurse's age, maybe a little younger, so the "ma'am" had obviously been an insult. He was pale in every sense of the word, white-blond hair, light blue eyes, skin that resembled porcelain more than human flesh. It made the blue uniform he wore stand out all the more against the white of his body and the white of the hospital room.

He walked further into the room and looked at the nurse as though he expected her to leave.

"Oooo," Winry said, hardly able to restrain herself as she saw the very familiar walk. "Who made your automail? It's hardly noticeable." The man stared at her blankly as though he'd been slapped across the face. "What? It's incredible. The movements are so smooth and silent, I didn't know that was possible. Of course, my best client tends to do too much running and jumping to have an automail leg that is that… elegant. For the movement to be that precise it must go at least up to your hip."

The man raised an eyebrow, as the muscles in his jaw clenched. Even as he spoke, they remained tense. "Miss," he said. "Do you realize that to announce that a person has automail is an insult to many?"

"I don't know why," Winry said, quite confused. "Especially when it is of this kind of quality. Did Dominic Ricardo make it for you? He's the only one whose automail could be so fluid. I hope to be as good as him one day. I'm training under one of his friends in Rush Valley… Can I see it?"

The man's eyes narrowed as he handed out a paper. "This is a summons," he said. "You will testify for the prosecution in the court martial of both Alphonse Elric and Roy Mustang."

She looked up at him, taking the paper. "If you think I will say anything against Al or even against Brigadier General Mustang, you are mistaken."

"If you think you won't," the man said with a smug smile, "then it is you who is mistaken." He turned on his heel and left.

0o0o0o0

Al was sitting in the living room with Riza. She had insisted that he give Roy and Ed some privacy. Begrudgingly, he had. He loved his brother, wanted to be there for him. However, it seemed that the brigadier general had a better idea of what Ed was going through that Al ever could.

The woman currently sitting on the chair, trying awkwardly to avoid looking at him as she listened to the radio, had all but hinted at that.

"Riza… About that kiss," he said. "Just forget it. I guess my brain's a little over-sensitized. I feel like I want to touch, smell, taste nearly everything."

"And which exactly was the desire that drove you to kiss me?" the lieutenant asked.

"I'm not sure," Al said as his brain simultaneously said that it was all of the above, particularly taste. His brain would also like to taste her again, but Al knew that under such close confines, he couldn't risk making himself an outsider to everyone. "I mean, I passed out from sensory overload underground. My father had to help me out of that old city. And when I finally got to eat, it was enough to make me cry. Not only because I could really taste it, but I felt full and realized that my stomach had been hungry just before that. I hadn't felt either, full or empty, in so long."

Riza's eyes looked up at him, and there was so much there that he knew the woman would have otherwise carefully guarded. He saw the pity, which he understood but hated all the same. But there was something else there. He didn't dare hope it was any of the number of things he was feeling for her at the moment.

"We need to talk about that kiss, Alphonse," she said.

He cringed at the use of his full name. In the last few days, she had gotten familiar enough with him to just call him Al, and to be downgraded back to the oh-so-formal "Alphonse" was a blow the teen didn't want to take. "I told you—"

"I know what came out of your mouth, Alphonse," she said, again using that name. "But that wasn't what you told me. If you are developing some sort of crush, then we really need to put a stop to it. You are a very kind young man, but I am eleven years older than you."

"Seven physically," Al said. "And mentally, you can't tell me that I am only a fifteen-year-old. I haven't been my age mentally since we lost Mom."

Riza looked as though she was prepared to argue, but inevitably closed her mouth. "Al," she said, and the teen nearly jumped for joy at the sound of the familiar name from her lips. "You are still too young. I am not 26 in here…" She pointed to her head. "Any more than you are fifteen in yours."

"I like you," Al said. "I think I always did, but now, there are all of these hormones and synapses making me react to what were just thoughts before…" He looked at her intently. "If you think you might feel even slightly that way, would you at least promise me that you won't try to convince me not to feel the way I do? Please?"

She sighed. "And I thought you were convincing in the armor."

Al smiled at her. "Is that a yes?"

She nodded.

0o0o0o0

"I told you I would tell you about my experience," Ed said. "I meant it." He looked up at the man's singular black eye. Roy was waiting, again holding his automail hand. In the back of Ed's mind was the thought that he wouldn't mind it if he could hold the man's hand with his left once the cast came off. He found himself wanting to feel the pale hand now in his, and he didn't understand why.

"There is no rush, no pressure," Roy said.

"I know," the teen said. "But it's equivalent exchange. I spent all of today since Al interrupted us trying to think of what I could say, and what I didn't want to think about."

Roy smiled sympathetically. Ed couldn't begin to express how grateful he was to have someone who understood, at least somewhat.

"Forty-seven," Ed said. He didn't dare look at the older man. He'd said it, but didn't know if he could actually meet his eyes, or even explain what the number meant. The tally, he knew, was correct, he just didn't know if he could say aloud what it meant to anyone outside of his own mind.

"Ed?" Out of the corner of his eye, Ed could see the man's other hand rubbing over the automail as though he could really feel it. "Forty-seven what?"

The teen could feel tears falling down his cheeks at that point. "Times," he choked out.

There was a pause, and much to Ed's relief, his former C.O. figured it out without further explanation. To his surprise, the man had lowered the bar and was leaning over the bed, hugging him.

Even more of a surprise, Ed was letting him. He was grateful for the human contact of someone his mind told him he could trust even when it told him that his own brother was not worthy of such an honor.

As though he was once again being rescued from his prison, Ed clung to the man now holding him and cried. He cried until it hurt, cried until the tears had long since stopped, cried even as he noticed the other man was crying, too. For him.

0o0o0o0

Anton walked up to his apartment looking as calm and cool as ever, but his mind was swimming. That girl was more of an automail expert than he'd anticipated. She had pinpointed not only that he had the metal appendage, but that it went up as high as she anticipated.

He nearly laughed at the idea of her "seeing" the automail, even as he opened the door to his modest home. He wondered if she would have been satisfied just following the lines of metal as they disappeared beneath his underwear, or if she would have insisted on him showing off the ports.

Now inside the solitary confines of his apartment, he laughed. She spoke of automail as though it was an amazing thing. Something to be revered.

Stripping out of the stiff uniform, Anton looked at his reflection in the mirror. He didn't do that often. He stood there, looking at the lean metal limb that engulfed the whole of his right leg.

He then lifted his undershirt, tracing over the thick scars that would never fade. Wide and gruesome, they reached well above the waistline of his underwear and stretched up to his ribcage. Dominic had indeed done the work, done the very best work out there, but the damage the Gate had done… he only had so much to work with.

Anton then let the shirt drop and lowered the boxers that covered the rest of his body. He didn't do this often, if ever. He hated to look at the automail in all of its so-called glory. He hated the way he looked in all of his "glory." The automail was so close to his groin, it was little wonder that the scar tissue had spread there. Had made things useless.

It was fitting really. If he hadn't been trying to get his first taste of the more carnal pleasures, he might not have ignored…

He shook his head, not wanting to think about it. He yanked the boxers back up and grabbed the small glass paperweight and tossed it at the mirror.

He had no use for a full-length mirror. There was nothing below his chest that he had any interest in seeing anymore.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

And so, with that one night, Roy and Ed had established a pattern. They continued to call it equivalent exchange, rather than therapy, or even sharing experiences. It was easier for both alchemists to put it in terms they were familiar with on a professional level. Neither one was particularly good about openly dealing with emotions.

Roy would talk about his childhood, growing up with his parents, and joining the military. Once, he even admitted how happy he had been when Ed had passed the test.

_Because I was damned useful to you,_ the teen retorted, and Roy managed to chuckle. He lived for moments like that, when the signs of Ed came out of the broken young man. The signs that "pet" hadn't replaced Fullmetal altogether.

Ed would tell Roy of his mother, of Al, of Winry and his attempts at alchemy. Roy heard about Risembool, Al's cats, and Winry's first over-excited kiss with the teen. One, which Ed, to Roy's surprise, did not seem to enjoy, but had found funny.

Roy had told Ed about the clothes he'd been wearing—brand new—that day, of how the woman had taken him, only half-hard and not knowing what the hell he was doing. She'd had to do a bit of work to make his body overcome what fear and natural resistance was trying to prevent. He told Ed of the way he was treated after the fact by his community, by his sympathizing parents, and by his classmates.

Ed told Roy of his horrors, enough to make the man have nightmares, but after each nightmare of Ed's captivity, Roy could remind himself that he had gotten Ed out. There was guilt for each beating, each attack, each violation of the young man's body recounted to him over those days. He wished he had gotten to the teen faster or had done more to investigate. Those nights, Roy would go down when he knew Ed was sleeping, Al on the couch in the same room, just to make sure he was still there. Safe.

Someone had to protect the teen, and Roy really hoped that Ed would learn to trust Al to do it. Al seemed the most likely candidate to be able to support Ed, as Roy expected his court martial would not go well. Yet things between the brothers seemed to be getting worse, and Roy was certain Al resented him for how close he had become to Ed since the attack.

It probably didn't help establishing a trust between the brothers or ending that resentment that Roy was the one who held Ed in his arms each night. He couldn't not do it after hearing one horrific story after another. Ed needed someone to care for and protect him, and after hearing some of Ed's stories, Roy had to admit that he enjoyed the comfort of the teen's metal arm.

After he would leave Ed's side, he found one thing troubling him more and more. It seemed that his anger at the fuhrer was changing or growing. He was, and would always be, furious that the man had hurt Ed the way he had. His anger had gotten stronger when he realized Ed hadn't even touched himself before that filthy son of a bitch had violated him. He was angry that Ed's first sexual experience, aside from one or two wet dreams, was that man. He was angry because it could have been someone who would have made it special for him. He was angry because a part of him he just wouldn't acknowledge yet told him that the person could have been him under other circumstances.

Roy usually buried his face in his pillows when he had thoughts like that. He had only thought of a handful of men before in his life that way, and someone who had been through what Ed had was not exactly a good idea for anything aside from the friend he now was. Roy didn't want to risk their friendship or the trust Ed had shown in him.

0o0o0o0

Jean still wasn't sure how to break the news to the brigadier general or Hawkeye that he was going to be serving major general as her secretary and all around second hand.

Admittedly, the woman hadn't given him much time to do much in the way of explaining. He seemed to be constantly running some errand or doing some task for the woman.

Well, he wasn't going to complain about all the things that he did for the woman. There were a few that he really enjoyed.

He didn't even want to consider all of military rules they must have been breaking, not to mention a few laws that were still in the books from about a hundred years ago. He knew what they did last night had to be illegal in several countries.

As he looked through file after file, he tried very hard to keep his mind on his work.

She would be fuhrer; Jean knew that much at least. The woman had been in Central only a week and already she'd garnered one-third of the votes from the nominating council. That said something, since everyone on the council was a general of some rank and qualified to take the job as much as she was. Some, even more.

General Hakuro was proving to be a little bit of a problem. The man seemed absolutely determined to become fuhrer, despite being a complete and total waste of a military uniform. He said that since Bradley had placed him as the vice or temporary fuhrer, he deserved to move up to the top rank without all of the business of a nominating council. He felt that his rank, which he earned more by kissing ass—and if the rumors were true, being a piece of one as well—throughout his entire military career.

Olivier had said, "His only use in the service is to service."

It seemed that many of the other generals felt the same way. Many also wanted someone in the leadership position who would clean up the mess left behind so that in a few years when they would re-vote on that person's ability to be furher, they could happily reject an application for another term and take over in their stead.

There was no denying that Olivier could easily take care of the mess left by King Bradley and his assassination. She was someone drastically different from the man she would be replacing. She was much colder when speaking before the public than Bradley had ever come off to be, but her heart was far warmer than her outward appearance. Jean would never dare tell on the woman, but he had seen her give money to a little girl whose mother was obviously struggling to buy her a little extra treat with her supper. She was blond, fair, blue-eyed. Her face was attractive and unmarked. Nothing about this woman other than strength of will was remotely like the man she would be replacing.

And she would be replacing him if Jean had anything to do about it. He knew that Mustang, despite all his work and all he'd done didn't really have a chance at the position. Not yet, at least.

That de Havilland was certainly seeing to that. Luckily for Mustang's side of the fight, Olivier had gotten permission for herself and Jean to go through all of the fuhrer's documents before he did. So he would see everything second hand. It helped to ensure than anything on either Ed or Mustang's past would remain a secret, and that was Jean's main goal.

Thankfully, it was also Olivier's.

Jean smiled as he put another folder away, barely looking as he did. Purposely not looking, not that he would admit that aloud.

0o0o0o0

Al had spent much of his time reading the contents of Mustang's library. Some of it, he thought, would actually be helpful in his attempts to restore his brother's limbs. He knew Ed thought he'd given up on him, but that just wasn't the case. He still hoped there would be a way of finding another philosopher's stone or at the very least something to help his brother.

He would have spent at least some of the time talking to Ed if his brother hadn't been so closed off to him. The younger brother felt there was a storm on the horizon between them, but Ed, it seemed, wouldn't talk to him even to yell at him. Al knew he deserved it after it all, but he still held hope that Ed could eventually forgive him. He did what he had to do. Part of him had begun to consider his brother might be dead, but that never meant there wasn't hope he would find him.

And now, now, he was trying to be helpful, without being obtrusive, trying to be sympathizing without being patronizing. It was a constant series of contradictions, and Al sometimes felt his mind boggled at the constant balancing act.

Ed was often silent when Al was in the room, and he rarely met Al's eyes. Though they'd touched a few times, and Ed allowed him to pat his automail arm, he knew it was a long way off from holding Ed in his arms the way Roy did. The one thing he said he wanted to do the moment he got his body back—to hug his brother—was probably not going to happen anytime soon. Unless the blond initiated it, he flinched from everyone's touch.

Riza was often Al's only comfort. Things were somewhat less comfortable than they'd been before his admission of feelings for her, but despite it all, they had struggled to the best of their abilities to care for those closest to him. They knew there was something, even if it was one-sided, between them. Despite this, the two would not for anything risk the only support they had for one another. Ed and Roy had them, but if they ruined things, then they would have no one.

0o0o0o0

Anton looked through the files that had been—at least he suspected—purposely missorted. He wondered if that idiot lieutenant would even know a good piece of paperwork if he saw it. The major general, he had no doubt she would. He had no doubt she would make a very good fuhrer. The problem was, the paper trail that would follow him from the old one could mean his downfall.

Then, to add insult to injury, that woman was sleeping with the lieutenant, her secretary-to-be. And they had only requested the information from the fuhrer's office because he had asked for it first. Major General Armstrong was considered an outside party to the proceedings and a woman who worked very hard to ensure justice and fairness in what she did. However, to Anton, it was blatantly obvious that the woman had sided with Mustang and Elric and would work to get them free.

He was hoping that somehow, he could find the paper he'd once seen flashed to him by the fuhrer. If he could find that, there was hope for himself. Ultimately in his life, that's what everything really was about, himself.

_Anton had been eager to show off his investigatory skills. He didn't want the fuhrer to think that he was only useful as an unknown alchemist. He enjoyed the law, and hated the fact that more often than not, he wasn't practicing it._

_"You asked to speak with me?" the fuhrer asked._

_"Yes," Anton said with a proud expression on his face. "I have been doing some research into the military's problem child. I can prove he tried to bring his mother back. Beyond the fact that he can clap his hands to make a transmutation circle—"_

_"I am not particularly concerned with Edward Elric," the furher said._

_"But he performed human transmutation," Anton said. "You could use that to your benefit, couldn't you?"_

_Surely, Anton wouldn't be the only one who was manipulated into performing experiments. He had the same amount of talent as those boys. He hadn't been much older than them when he had performed it himself. His entire life had been manipulated by the military from the moment they found out what he'd done._

_Not once had he been given the freedom to go and travel to different cities, create havoc, and then return home a conquering hero. No, they brought him in unannounced, had him do his work as covertly as possible, and then return back to nothing, if he was lucky. More often than not, lately, he had been chastised for not being at work. The furher, it seemed, was not even excusing his absences any longer._

_"He is already benefiting us. Have you heard that state alchemists are no longer considered a plague upon the land? They actually anticipate our men and women coming in, just in hopes that Ed will be there and help them."_

_"And that is what he is here for? Public image?" Anton's voice dripped sarcasm, even as it grew louder._

_"He is also searching the philosopher's stone," the fuhrer said._

_"I could do that," Anton said. "Probably with a lot less noise."_

_"Our master wants them to do it. She thinks they will create a much more pure stone because of their youth and innocence," the fuhrer said._

_Anton still didn't understand it. He'd met Dante once or twice, heard her take credit for a lot of his work, too. Why would she want them to do this?_

_Anton watched as the man went to the filing cabinet and rummaged around._

_"And what if someone else figures out what I know?" Anton asked._

_"Then, this will be our saving grace," the fuhrer said. He waved a piece of paper Anton recognized as a pardon. "It's ready should _anyone_ try anything." He put extra emphasis on "anyone."_

0o0o0o0

Winry had visited Ed and Al a while ago, but getting in required a lot of paperwork ahead of time. It meant that she rarely got to visit two days in a row, but at least she had seen him. In some ways, he seemed to be doing better. In others, like his relationship with Al, it was as though he had taken a step backwards. Having received a phone call today from Al, with him saying they'd started to work things out was a step in the right direction, in her opinion. Ed seemed different with Mustang, too. Actually, she knew he was different with the man, as Al had told her the same thing. Seeing first hand the way those two now interacted was something odd in itself.

But Winry had been working very hard to understand the older man better, if for no other reason than he seemed to be the only person who was helping Ed right now. Much as she wanted to be that person, she only cared that someone could help her friend. Above all else, above imaginings of caring for him while he recovered, above one day dating even marrying her longtime friend, she wanted him healthy and feeling like his old self. Nothing mattered as much as that.

However, after meeting Anton and discussing with Al her suspicions about the man's automail, she decided she needed to call Dominic.

"Hello," a voice said at the other end.

"Hey, Paninya, it's Winry."

"How are things there? How's Ed?" the other teen asked.

Winry gave a short update on Ed and Al, adding a little about how she was doing. She tried not to tell too much not to give away all of the more gory details of it all.

"Could I talk to Dominic?" Winry asked. "I had a question about someone who I think is a client of his."

"He's with a client right now. I don't know if he'll be much use. You know he's not much of a talker," Paninya said. "Who is it? Maybe I can help."

"The name's Anton de Havilland."

"Yeah," Paninya said. "Anton's one of Dominic's older clients. There was some kind of accident when he was fifteen or something. He's a good guy."

"You have to be kidding me," Winry said. "He's the attorney trying to get Ed and Al in trouble."

"Well, he's different here, I think. He grew up in Rush Valley. From what I heard, his mom was a real bitch. Always left him alone with his older brother, and there was something wrong with his brother, so he was always babysitting." Paninya paused. "I'll ask Dominic about them, see if I can find anything out, or why he'd want to do that to Ed and Al. Okay?"

Winry thanked her before saying her goodbyes. Even the normally distrustful young woman liked Anton. Winry just couldn't understand why.

0o0o0o0

That night, Ed could hear Al's deep sleeping at the side of the room. He had once again exchanged with Roy, but it had not necessarily required Ed to end up in Roy's arms. It did not mean that Ed hadn't found himself there, and it did not mean Ed argued with the man when he did.

From the other side of the room, the faint sounds of Al's nightmares could be heard. Ed's younger brother didn't scream or call out in his sleep, which amazed him. Ed had trained himself not to make any noise that would disturb Al, as the other teen didn't sleep, but Al was so unaccustomed to dreams, let alone nightmares, Ed still wondered how he kept so quiet.

"Al?" Ed whispered into the dark. "Al, it's just a dream."

There were a few more hushed noises, but Al seemed to calm. Ed smiled to himself despite it all that he could so easily chase away his brother's nightmares. Even the bitter part of himself that said the younger brother deserved the nightmares just couldn't bear to see him like this. So what if Al had done everything intentionally—which 90 of Ed didn't think he did—Ed felt he deserved it anyway. Four years trapped inside of a suit of armor that could not feel, could not taste. Deprived entirely of the experience of puberty, of four additional years not spent inside the armor.

Ed felt he deserved it all, no matter how often Roy argued with him otherwise. Oddly enough, their only disagreement since the whole mess was in regards to Roy's defense of him. It was strange to hear the man spout off so many "good" qualities, and it made the younger man think the older was making a large portion of them up.

Hearing silence, save for the steady breathing of his younger brother, Ed relaxed onto his bed once again.

He was still trying to figure out why Roy had held him again. Earlier in the week, when Ed had told the man something that wasn't particularly gruesome, at least in comparison, he'd remain where he was and rub over Ed's automail arm. Today had been the same.

Ed heard the door open. Roy was checking on him again. Like he did on those days he held Ed, but once again, there wasn't the need, so to speak.

He could feel that single eye on him as he lay as still as possible. Tonight, different than any other time Ed had heard the man, Roy took a few steps into the room. The faint sliver of moonlight was on the man's face, and the expression there… Ed knew the man couldn't know he even looked that way.

It was warm, lacking the harsh pity that the rest of the world gave Ed. It was similar to the way he remembered his mother looking at him, but there was a difference in that black eye that Ed just couldn't place.

The older man then retreated from the room, nearly silently, and left Ed to confusedly discern what he'd just seen.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Riza Hawkeye, in general, preferred quiet. She liked when things calmed and there was an easy, relaxed atmosphere. And on occasion, despite the reasons they were all there, even within the lock-down of Roy's house, they managed that kind of silence. What had happened over the last few days, that was an oppressive lack of noise that simply had to end. Roy and Ed still talked, but there was very little between them, as though Roy was trying to distance himself from the teen, and Ed… it was painful to see as he looked so confused at having lost the only person he could talk to these last few weeks.

But in the same breath, Ed was perpetuating the quiet, as he all but refused to talk to Al. It was something that had been building, but as Al turned more bitter—Riza already knew that some of it was because of Roy—he snapped more easily at all of them. A few days ago, Ed would have been the exception to that, but Riza had already caught Al talking to his brother in the same way he was starting to talk to the rest of the world.

And even if he managed to keep his composure, Al exited the room looking so hurt and angry that it took all of Riza's restraint not to go over and hug him.

She didn't because she was worried she would encourage him. He was sweet and new to all of this, and ultimately, he was still a fifteen-year-old at heart. She didn't care how much he'd seen or how much he swore he understood the world.

When he went into the living room and practically growled out his frustration, she merely went to the archway of the room. "Alphonse?" she asked tentatively.

"Brother asked me when Roy would be downstairs," he said. Al's honey and chocolate eyes looked up at her and she saw practically every emotion that must have been going through him at that moment. He could not guard himself like the rest in the house had learned to—because she could admit that even Ed had learned to hide his deeper emotions.

Despite everything that told her this was a very bad idea, Riza sat beside Al and held him.

If she were really truthful with herself, she would admit that she probably felt for Al what she already suspected Roy felt for Ed. It was unnerving knowing that someone was capable of making her walls crumble like that, without any real effort.

0o0o0o0

"But how do we test his ability?" Heymans asked Hohenheim.

"I am not sure, but I really believe that for him to have that kind of knowledge he must know something about alchemy," he said. "Do you know anything about him?"

Heymans tapped a pencil against the table. "Not much. He was too busy trying to recruit a sort of inner circle at the academy. It was odd, though. He is known as such a fantastic lawyer, and I really cannot remember him trying many cases in those years."

"And yet the fuhrer trusted him," Hohenheim said, looking at him. "It only confirms to me that he must have been an alchemist himself. I do not dare to say that he might have committed human transmutation."

The redheaded man looked at the elder one warily. "Human transmutation…" He was already aware that both the Elric brothers had tried to commit the ultimate crime. Their fatherh ad confessed to the same. If these three unlikely criminals of alchemy could commit the act, the more likely one could as well. The problem would be proving it.

"Your research has turned entirely from the court martial, hasn't it?" Hohenheim said.

"The brigadier general does not want your son to take the stand," Heymans said. "The only way to make sure that doesn't have to happen is to convince de Havilland that it's a bad idea to put him there." He stood and went through some of Havoc's notes on the whole thing. "The old administration is crumbling, and his record is clean as long as that administration is in power."

"You are talking blackmail?" Hohenheim asked.

"Why not?" Breda said. "He did the same thing to the boss and chief." He grinned. "And I am not quite as noble as some of the other ones in my office. I'm not above dirty tricks."

"Well, you were nearly a lawyer," Hohenheim joked.

Breda shook his head, not taking his eyes away from the scribbled legal pads. "You have spent too much time around me if now even you are making jokes."

0o0o0o0

Anton slammed fellow captain and JAG member Gustav Messerschmitt, into the wall. "And just what the hell do you think you are doing going through my personal belongings?" he barked at the man, icy blue eyes glaring into the frightened ones of the older man. "Thinking you'll find something? That if you try to report me on something they'll reward you like a good little puppy?" He laughed and lowered his head until their noses were practically touching. "Need I remind you that your own record is not entirely pristine? As a matter of fact, it would take little work on my part to show you for the little ratfink you are."

Messerschmitt in a rare show of backbone returned the glare. "I know that you've done something that could make me look better."

Anton chuckled. "And what the hell do you think I managed to do that could make a living pile of shit like you look good?"

"For a lawyer, you never tried many cases," Messerschmitt retorted. "You were always close to the fuhrer. You must have done something."

Anton wanted to laugh at the man. He had no idea, really, and couldn't. There were no records of Lab 5. They learned after the Elric brothers busted in and ruined the place. Juliet Douglas might have been given the name Sloth, but she was anything but. He'd never seen someone so creepily efficient, but she wasn't human, after all.

"Tell me, Messerschmitt, do you think for one second that I'm going to get written up for anything I did while serving the fuhrer and the old administration?" Anton asked. "Particularly when you are the one who we have record of skimming from the top of the treasury accounts." Messerschmitt continued to fight Anton's hold on him, but had no luck. Anton smirked. "I spent my time helping the fuhrer with murderers and mass murderers. Do you really think you're going to manage to get away from me so easily?"

It was obvious just by the expression on the older man's face that he had gone from thinking he could defeat Anton to fearing him. "So listen to me you little slug. If you want to go after someone, try going after someone who wasn't doing his duty to the military and the fuhrer to a tee. Because they have no proof that I can't be just as loyal to another set of leaders, and they know I follow orders unwaveringly."

"If you are so confident, why are you scouring through the fuhrer's old files?"

Really, the older man has an agile mind, and he had gotten to the point. Anton didn't dare admit that he was looking for his own pardon for the act of human transmutation, but if it was there for Fullmetal, surely it must have been there for him.

"Listen to me, Messerschmitt, I'm going to accept your resignation, which you are going to write for me right now on that typewriter there." He pointed to one of the secretaries' abandoned desks. "I am going to let you go now because I don't want to deal with the mess of having someone like you in my department, but if I must, I will file a court martial against you for inspecting a senior officer's personal files and property. That is the closest thing to generosity you will find from me."

The other lawyer went to the desk and begrudgingly went to the typewriter.

0o0o0o0

When he saw Roy come downstairs, Al forced himself not to glare at the man. The doctor had already come and left, having removed Ed's cast on his arm. The doctor had some ability in alchemy, which allowed him to inspect the arm without x-rays. Ed's skin had looked raw, and Al was supposed to put another dose of the ointment on it.

"Edward was asking for you," Al heard Riza telling the man. "I think he really wanted to talk to you."

"Oh, well, I'll go on in—"

"You can just eat," Al snapped. "Brother will need the cream on his rash where the cast was. So you can wait and so can he. You've already slept until noon as it is while the rest of us have been awake."

"Pardon me if the painkillers are making me a little groggy," the man returned.

Al said nothing more, but went into the room where his brother lay. He saw Ed looking at the door expectantly and hadn't failed to notice the faint expression of disappointment on his face when he saw it was Al.

In the last few days, he had managed to talk to his brother a little. He had a sense that an explosion was just beyond the horizon, and he wondered, honestly, which of them it would be that finally did it. That look was enough to make him want to be the one. He wanted to just tell his older brother to snap out of it, that he wanted him back the way he used to be. The problem was that Al knew better than that. If he ranted about anything, it would likely be about the close relationship between the brigadier general and his brother. Not because he had issues with the fact that the two had managed to find support in one another, but more because he felt Mustang was supporting Ed in place of Al, rather than with him. And Al realized that there must be a reason why Mustang was able to understand Ed so much better than he could. After all, Roy was one of the few who didn't get some kind of doubtful expression when he used the words, "I understand."

Then finally, after days of this, Al confronted Ed, or at least as much as Al dared to confront his brother considering the state he was in.

"Why don't you talk to me?" Al asked Ed. "I could listen."

"You don't understand," Ed said, and al could almost see and feel the wall he was putting up between them. "You couldn't."

"And Mustang can?"

"Yes," Ed said, eyes glaring at Al defiantly. "He sure as hell can. Why do you care anyway?"

"I care because you're my brother."

Ed scoffed, and Al braced himself, knowing that this was finally it. This was where Ed would list off his transgressions. "Apparently it takes more than that for you," Ed said. "Where was brotherly love for those two months? Where was it when after one, you began searching for the philosopher's stone without me? Where was it when you used the stone for yourself, leaving me with these… things?" He gestured with his automail. "Do you know that the whole time, the whole damned time, Roy had people investigating and searching for me? That he actually went out and looked for me himself? If you had been in that house and heard that son of a bitch talking to his pet, would you have even considered that he might have me locked away in his basement? Would it have been obvious to you like it was to Roy, or would you have left me to die in the fire?" Not once had Ed's voice raised above its normal tone, and that frightened the other brother.

Al took a deep breath, willing himself not to yell. "I did not give up on you. I spent the first month searching solely for you, and then I came across father, who was searching for Dante. She was the one pulling the strings of the homunculi, and was trying to find another philosopher stone. She used it, and so did our father, to stay alive much longer than was possible—"

"I'm so glad to see he was able to manage that again," Ed said sarcastically.

"Brother, I'm not arguing about Dad."

"No, because he managed to help you get your body back. He's the hero, and I'm the one who fucked it all up in the first place."

Al groaned and threw his hands up in the air. "You can't honestly still think that. How many times do I have to tell you that I knew all the risks and did it anyway? I was just as foolish as you were, so please don't blame yourself for that. You did everything you could to try to get your body back, and you want to know something? I'm still looking into ways to get your limbs back. I heard Dante say something about Gluttony, that he could be used to make a philosopher's stone. We know he needs to be killed anyway, and he's still out there, half out of his mind. If he could be used, I could bring back your arm and leg. I've been working on that every spare moment I've had here."

He saw Ed looking at him in surprise, but Al was glad to have that off his chest. He hadn't wanted to tell Ed and give him false hope, but he just couldn't let his brother go on thinking he'd given up on him, when it seemed like everyone else in the world was working toward trying to help him.

0o0o0o0

Beneath Central, Wrath had already found Gluttony, not that he was letting the monstrous thing know he was there. He watched as it moved through the old city of Xerxes, eating everything it could find in sight. It was almost pathetic, as brainless as it was now, and still, there was great bitterness toward its creator. There were few words that the thing could form, but that name was one of them. That fury at the person who had given him life lingered on even after his mind was gone.

They all had that, Wrath mused. He certainly resented the hell out of Izumi Curtis, though he could tolerate Sig if given the chance. The thought that Sig might welcome him as a father would a son was a thought that made him feel almost happy, but to know that in being welcomed by Sig would mean being around Izumi held him back. She had done more than just create him with the knowledge of the crime against nature it was. She had created him, been disgusted and turned him over to the Gate. It left him terrified of a baby's cries, of what amounted to his own unanswered cries as he grew up behind the Gate, and dreading darkness.

There was some satisfaction in knowing she would never have another child. She couldn't possibly be a fit mother. She had deserted him to an unfeeling monster. Even with the Elric brothers she had left them to their own devices at such young ages. Ed had even been bitten by a fox that could well have been rabid. She and that man Mason had made huge errors in judgment there, not that Wrath cared about Ed, but their mistake had created a rather noticeable flaw on a rather good arm.

He flexed his automail, not wanting to admit to himself that this one wasn't bad either. After all, he couldn't really remember a time when he'd had an arm and leg of his own.

In the distance, Wrath could hear Gluttony screaming out about Dante, or in his dazed state, it was as close as he could manage. The older sin no longer seemed to know why he was so angry at the woman or of his former affection for Lust, but his anger did not seem to be fading.

"And they call me Wrath," the young sin said as he climbed from the underground city.

0o0o0o0

When Roy looked into the room, he found Ed crying. These weren't the terrorized, reliving-his-nightmares tears that Roy had comforted away. Ed never showed any desire to hide those, at least, not from him. But the moment Roy walked in the door, Ed had immediately attempted to wipe away the thin, wet trails from his cheeks and look up with a smile that his heart definitely wasn't in.

On instinct, Roy went to the teen's bedside and lowered the rail. Usually he waited for Ed to grow comfortable with his presence, but the older man didn't feel it would be necessary at the moment. When he saw Ed shift over enough to leave Roy room to lie on his side, he knew he'd been right.

"Ed, what is it?" Roy asked the teen as he took his usual spot on the bed, near the teen's automail arm.

"Al…" Ed managed, not looking Roy in the eyes. The raven-haired man could have guessed it would be the younger brother that was the problem. Over the last few days, Al had gone from sullen to flat-out rude to Roy. It was only a matter of time before that carried over to the older brother.

Roy shifted his weight a bit and put his right arm so that it could rest beneath Ed's head. His still-sore left arm he moved so that his hand could comfortingly rub the teen's own left arm. For the first time, he was actually touching Ed's skin. It made the younger man finally look up at him in surprise, as though he never realized this was the same thing Roy had done every night for going on two weeks.

"Ed, I don't know what Al said to make you upset."

"I am not upset," Ed said. Roy again rubbed his hand over Ed's arm, noticing the flesh was cool now that it was no longer in a cast and still not covered by any fabric on his pajamas. Ed's behavior at the moment was classic Fullmetal, and it seemed that whatever had been said hurt both of the conflicting personalities—the old, boisterous and defiant one and the new, timid and frightened one—that now made up Edward Elric.

"You don't have to talk about it," Roy said. "But I'll stay here anyway."

0o0o0o0

Hours had passed before Ed finally broke down and told Roy what had been said between him and his brother. When he finally did, the man held him closer than he had before and had even kissed the top of Ed's hair. Roy had tried to dismiss that it hadn't been a kiss, and Ed let him, but he'd felt the man's lips on the crown of his head.

He was still in Roy's arms now, despite the fact that the older man had fallen asleep, clinging to him like a child with his favorite teddy bear, yet still careful somehow about how he held Ed.

Ed again thought to Roy kissing his head and his face burned. What the hell was the man thinking? It had been almost parental, and sometimes when the older alchemist looked at him, Ed could easily convince himself that was all it was.

It was the other times that frightened him. When the looks actually reminded Ed of the way Winry would smile at him or grow angry in his defense. Ed was well-aware of Winry's feelings toward him, but surely the looks couldn't mean the same thing in Roy, could they? Did he even want them to?


	14. Chapter 14

**Nightmare**

_**Chapter 14**  
_

Dominic was impossible to reach by phone, or rather, he would only gruffly grunt at Winry and tell her he didn't have time to talk. With some financial help from Ed's father, she was traveling to Rush Valley to prove to the man that she was Pinako Rockbell's flesh and blood, even if it meant terrifying him… just a little.

When she had told Hohenheim about the other lawyer being from Rush Valley and having automail, he and that Lieutenant Breda had exchanged a knowing look, but shared none of the knowledge they seemed to possess with her. Instead, they seemed eagerly supportive of her suggestion that she would go to visit Dominic to intimidate the information out of him, even if it required recruiting her grandmother in the task.

Hohenheim had joked with her, told her they only wanted to intimidate Dominic, not scare him beyond reason, and had chuckled. It was so easy to forget that the man had been a drinking buddy of her grandmother's. He seemed old enough to be a father to Ed and Al, but certainly not enough to be a peer to the eldest Rockbell.

Winry sighed as she looked out the window. She had been so sure that Dominic would know something, and Hohenheim and the lieutenant both seemed to think that Captain de Havilland was the key to ending the court martial. As though he was really the only thing keeping it going on.

Thinking about it, with the changes slowly happening throughout the country, with knowledgeable underlings all reporting their superior officers, was it really that hard to think that the lawyer may very well be the only reason the two military officers were facing court martial and Al was facing a real court date.

She'd heard the dates had been set, and according to Al, he and Ed were patching things up. That was good, for the best really. She knew that Ed was getting very close to Brigadier General Mustang, not an idea that thrilled her much given her parents' fate at his hands, but she'd been glad Ed reached out to someone. The problem was that of the three people currently facing court trials, two of them were Ed's obvious support, and Lieutenant Hawkeye a much more silent one.

Watching the world go by as she sat on the train, Winry hoped that the brothers were okay.

0o0o0o0

_Ed had managed to hobble out of the basement with his brother. The armor held him securely, arm wrapped around his waist and careful of his bruised body._

_"Come on, Brother, let's get you out of here," Al said._

_"I'm not arguing," Ed said as they made their way up the stairs, which creaked underneath Al's weight. It was slow, and finally, Al picked Ed up into his arms and started up the stairs. When he reached the top, he feared the fuhrer would show up, that the man who nearly had Ed calling him master a few nights before would be back from his visit to Northern Headquarters._

_When Ed saw no one, he was certain he was in the clear. He and Al would get out and he would be safe._

_But then Al stopped and turned back toward the stairs. "Al?" Ed asked before he felt himself dropped from Al's grasp. He tried to brace himself for the fall, but it didn't stop the fall from breaking his left arm. He felt it snap in the forearm and upper arm._

_Through tears of pain, he looked up to see Al transforming into Envy as he came down the stairs._

_"You really thought your little brother would come and save you?" Envy said with a laugh. "He and the old man are currently looking for a way to use the philosopher's stone. They have it, you know. They found it without you. I don't know if they even spent a week looking for you before our baby brother went back to looking for the stone. And he found it so much faster with our father. Really, if Hohenheim had just shown up sooner, the stone would probably have already been found. I think Al has realized just how useless you are."_

_"He might have found it, but he won't use it without me," Ed said as he cradled his arm._

_"Such confidence in little Alphonse," Envy taunted as he stood beside Ed's prone figure. "What on earth will you do when you see it is misplaced confidence? When you see that he has forgotten you and has a nice, healthy body and a relationship with your father you used to dream of as a kid?"_

_"Shut up you bastard!"_

_And Envy kicked him._

0o0o0o0

Riza found herself consoling Al once again. It was getting to be as much a habit as Roy with Ed. But at least this time, it was understandable, and she could find no logical reason why she shouldn't at least offer him some comfort.

She was standing with him, and he towered over her, but somehow still felt small in times like this. The therapist had visited again, and according to Al, Ed had recounted Envy's treatment of him.

"I had accepted, well, not accepted, but you know what I mean. I knew what the fuhrer had done, but Envy… He tormented brother by looking like me. Ed said once, he made a good guess at what I'd look at by the time I was fifteen."

"Then that means Ed has just been trying to separate you from what Envy had told him," Riza said.

"I guess so," Al said. "The doctor suggested that maybe we argued like that because it was all Brother had left. He can't very well spar with me right now."

Riza rubbed over the teen's long hair. "I know. And this hurts more than fighting one another. Bruises fade much quicker than emotions.

Al nodded. "But things have been better since, and… and maybe we can get back to where things were, or at least, as close to that as possible."

With a smile, Riza nodded. "Things will be different, but you two are too close for anything to come between you permanently."

There was a pause before Al spoke again. "He hugged me."

Riza looked up at the eyes, a green-tinted mirror of her own. His face wasn't smiling, but they were.

Oh, Al liked for her to touch him, to give him all the tactile sensations he had been denied in the armor—though she'd unintentionally heard him exploring one solo in the bathroom a few nights before and didn't dare speak to him about it—but she was nothing compared to his brother. She was his crush. Ed was his lifeline.

0o0o0o0

In another room, Ed found himself waiting for Roy, knowing the man was also talking with the psychologist. It was disconcerting just how much he'd come to rely on the older man. Not to mention that he knew Roy would be facing a court martial that could separate them forever. The doctor had reminded him of that fact, and it was all Ed could do not to get angry at her for pointing out something so obvious but so hurtful.

But not if Ed testified. He'd heard enough of the conversations from everyone as they came and went to know that if Ed testified, Roy would be let free, but Ed would have to face a courtroom full of people, maybe even be questioned about his abilities and Al having been in the armor. Ed had been trying to weigh the consequences because anything that affected him with the attempt to bring back his mother would also affect Al. But he and Al had actually committed the crime of human transmutation. What Roy did hadn't been a crime. It had been the extermination of a monster.

The question was, did he rat out his brother to save a man he, well, cared about for a crime they really did or did he sell out Roy in order to save Al?

The fact was that Ed didn't know the answer.

It hurt to think that a few days ago, maybe, he would have let he and his brother suffer the consequences, that the "residual anger," as the shrink put it, at Envy might have let him risk his own brother.

"I am so fucked up," Ed muttered to himself. But really, things were getting better between himself and Al, and the psychologist had helped Ed put into words that he simply couldn't before with his baby brother.

Ed moved his arm a little, grateful the flesh and blood one was able to bend and straighten again. He'd have to tell Winry to get him patched back up with some automail for his leg. He was getting tired of lying around. He wanted to move and go and do, and just try to forget it all. And, while he was bound to this hospital bed, that just wasn't going to happen.

He grimaced at the thought of having to use crutches, not to mention that he wasn't entirely sure his left arm could do much supporting of a crutch once it was out of the cast. And Winry probably wouldn't like the idea of him using the underside of his automail as a sole support for his weight. He knew from enough lectures there was a weak spot in the armpit there. It would wear down, but, damn it, he was getting tired of the bed and the wheelchair.

"You're fidgety," a voice said, and Ed immediately looked up to it with a smile that slipped out so unknowingly.

"I want out of this bed," Ed responded.

"Well, I can get you into the wheel chair. They'll let us onto the back porch at least," Roy said, looking surprisingly dour.

"What did the woman say to you?" Ed asked. "Something's different."

"She just pointed a few things out to me," Roy said.

"Probably the same stuff she said to me," Ed said. He sat up in his bed. "After she finished analyzing why Al and I were fighting… not that I don't appreciate the effort, I just hate being put under a magnifying glass, she decided to talk to me about you, of all things. Said I need to consider that you can't be my sole source of support, that I should lean on Al and especially Winry and Pinako, since they aren't facing charges."

"It's sound advice, really," Roy said.

"It's crap advice," Ed said, shifting in the bed and gesturing for Roy to get the wheelchair. "Like I'd bail on you because you're facing charges. Hell, I can get yours dropped. I mean, they need proof of the fuhrer being a son of a bitch. Well, I'm it." Ed tried to mask the uncertainty in his voice. He could tell all to Roy, but to an attorney, in front of a crowd of dozens, maybe hundreds?

"I don't expect you to do that," Roy said.

"Yeah, well, that's the good thing about friends." Ed was testing waters here, calling Roy his friend outright. "You do things for one another that you don't expect."

Roy looked a little surprised, but Ed released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when he didn't argue the fact that they were friends. "But, Ed, I can't let you do something that would risk you and your brother."

"How would it risk us?" Ed asked.

"That day, when you told me that you thought Anton de Havilland was an alchemist, and I already suspected something myself…" Ed nodded, waiting for Roy to continue. The older man looked more uncomfortable than Ed had seen him in days. "He told me if you take the stand, he will question you about human transmutation."

Ed swallowed what felt like a boulder that had taken up residence in his throat. "He knows." Ed had suspected, but this confirmation was a little startling.

Roy nodded, putting an arm around the teen. Ed thought it had been initially to help him climb out of bed, but he suspected now that Roy was trying to comfort him, maybe even himself a little as well. Finally, Ed let the man help him into the chair, trying to do all he could to ease the burden off of Roy's still-healing shoulder.

"Are you okay, Ed?" Roy asked and he nodded in response.

"So what are my options, Roy?" Ed asked. "Do I let you get court-martialed for something that should make you a hero while Al and I go free for a real crime we did commit? Or do I sell out my baby brother for something that was mostly my idea because I know telling the truth would save you?"

"Ed, it isn't as though I'm blame free, and when I went in to fight the fuhrer, I knew what would probably happen, that I may be seen as a villain through all of this. I'm satisfied with that."

"Well, I'm not," Ed said a bit too quickly. "You saved me, saved this whole country. I won't let you be remembered as a villain." He shook his head. "That isn't fair. That isn't equivalent."

"Ed, not everything in life is—"

"Don't tell me not everything is fair, not equivalent," Ed said, abruptly cutting him off. "If there isn't some payback for everything Al's gone through, everything you have suffered through, everything everyone I know has gone through…" Everything he, himself had been through, but wouldn't say aloud. "Then I don't want to believe it. I have to believe that there's some retribution for it all."

Roy said nothing as he pushed Ed out onto the back porch. "I'm sorry, Ed, but Breda and I have both agreed you aren't going to testify at my hearing."

"I'll go there anyway, demand to be heard," Ed said, defiantly.

"You don't know when it is."

"But it's been scheduled, then," Ed said.

Roy nodded. "Very soon, as a matter of fact."

"Then, I'll wait for the day when you suddenly disappear from the house, I'll make the guards take me there." Ed didn't try to hide the desperation in his voice.

"Ed…"

"Damn it, if you go, you better not just disappear. You'd better manage to at least say goodbye. Then I'll convince you to take me."

It wasn't until Ed felt Roy's warm hand on his cheek that he realized he'd been crying. He looked up at the older man and jerked his head away, pushing at the man's hand as well with his automail one. He was mad at Roy, and he didn't want him touching him like that, in that way that made him feel uncomfortable in the pit of his stomach.

"Don't," Ed said. "Just don't. You have no right to tell me not to. That is my decision, and I'll find a way, you know, if I make that decision."

Roy said nothing, but Ed was certain that he did know.

0o0o0o0

Havoc watched in shock as Olivier brought in four huge file boxes on a handcart into her office, where he was currently sitting on the floor, still surrounded by similar boxes.

"More?" he asked, sounding very deflated at the thought. "Really?"

"Yes," Olivier said, shutting the door before taking off her uniform coat. "But I'm done for the day, so I can help you."

"Usually when you help me, I get nothing done," Jean said.

"But you're relaxed and well rested for the next day." She grinned at him, a bit predatorily, before sitting on the floor beside him. Surrounded by the boxes on the floor he'd just removed of papers, Jean felt a little like a trapped animal. He'd complain, if he wasn't completely and totally aroused at the thought.

"So what's in those boxes?" Jean asked.

"Nothing that can't wait until morning," she said, placing herself between his splayed legs. "But they are Juliet Douglas's personal files."

"They could be the answer to the chief and boss's problems."

"Which is why I want your brain to be able to function and eyes capable of reading them properly," she said, shifting. "That wouldn't happen right now."

"My brain would function better if you didn't have your hand on my crotch."

"Hmm… and your eyes might not be so crossed either," she added. "But regardless, I think you need a break, and I've had a trying day of facing all of the generals to prove myself as the most qualified fuhrer candidate." Her hand moved up to unfasten Jean's belt. All he could do was grab the woman and mash their lips together, taking the little bit of control the woman would give him.

0o0o0o0

Al came across something he rarely saw, even living in such close quarters: Riza Hawkeye taking a well-deserved nap.

She had comforted him earlier that day, but even then she had been carefully controlled. Now, all of her features were relaxed, and Al wished he could see her like this when she was awake.

He put his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the door frame to the living room. For her to have fallen asleep down here, she must have completely collapsed. He walked in and put a blanket over her, as she would have done for him. He gently brushed aside a stray piece of her hear that was draped over her face.

She thought this was all a new thing, that his feelings all came from the fact that he had just gotten his body back and all of the emotions and hormones and sensations were new.

He'd always thought she was pretty. He'd always thought a lot of women were pretty. If he would let himself reach that point, he could easily become another Roy Mustang, enjoying all the women in the world because they were appealing. But, there was too much of Al that was simply that: Al. He wouldn't just want a series of flings. He would want to be with someone who was warm and caring, who was strong and bold. He had begun to notice it in the armor, but here, where they were exposed to one another on a fairly regular basis, those little hints that she might be exactly what he'd been imagining were all proven. He saw the sides to her that he was sure few others got to see, and he liked all of it.

She had a temper, not the icy one with threatening guns and bullets, but one that had led her to throw and break one of Mustang's glasses in the kitchen. It was fiery and raw. It was painful, and Al just wanted to hold her as she so often held him. She also hurt, much more than she let show. Sometimes, when she thought she was alone, or he'd left the room already, he'd see it, this incomprehensible darkness that would wash over her face. Al had that too at times, they all did in the house, but she was the only one who tried to pretend it wasn't there.

"Al?" she said, apparently noticing he was standing above her.

"Just getting you a blanket," Al said. "Rest now. I'll take care of things. Promise." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. He left it at that and turned off the remaining lamp in the room.

He saw his brother and Mustang outside. They didn't seem to be talking. As a matter of fact, Al would have said they were mad at one another. As far as he was concerned, that was a good thing. Not because he was jealous of their relationship, but because he really feared that if Ed could only rely on Mustang, he'd cease to function after Mustang got locked away. And that, he was sure, was what would happen. They couldn't execute him, not when it was so obvious that the fuhrer had done some very wrong things, but they could imprison him.

And then Ed would be broken, and Al would have to pick up the pieces. A few months ago, the young man knew he could have done that without any trouble, but Envy had destroyed much of his brother's trust in him. Al frowned. He had done a little of that himself. Unknowingly, what Al had been forced to do to save everyone from Dante had matched up perfectly with what Envy had told his brother he'd done out of selfishness.

He thought Ed understood now that Al hadn't used the stone for himself, hadn't given up on Ed, didn't resent his older brother. It killed him that Ed thought he would resent him, that some of his brother's accusations at Al were really targeting himself.

But if Ed understood, then maybe they could pick up the pieces again. They'd done it dozens of times before, and Al was willing to do it again, no matter how long it took.

0o0o0o0

Roy had tried reasoning with Ed, tried to tell the teen that he really was deserving of a prison sentence or death, but there was nothing he could tell the blond that he hadn't already told him before, that Ed hadn't already forgiven him for, even if the crimes hadn't been committed against himself.

So now, Ed was stubbornly set on trying to find a way to pay for his own "sin" of trying to bring back his mother, a woman who was Juliet Douglas, a woman who from all reports was likely the person who killed Maes. He said he would tell de Havilland that he had tried to bring back his mother and his brother had been an unfortunate victim. He said he would suffer the brunt of it all, if it just meant that Roy and Al would be free.

Roy had yelled at Ed, telling him that his brother would no more want that than Roy, himself, did. Freedom isn't truly there when you know it cost someone else so much, even if it was a willing sacrifice.

Ed had stubbornly decided that Roy was trying to take the choice away from him, and looked like being out on the porch with Roy was the last place he wanted to be.

"Wheel me back into the house. I'm too pissed to want to ask you but too injured to do it myself," Ed said. Roy moved over to the chair, to Ed.

"Ed, I'm not trying to take this choice from you. I'm trying to tell you that if you are imprisoned or killed, it will kill all of us here who care about you. That's the thing about having someone who really does care, Ed. When you hurt, they hurt. You've always known that about Al, but Ed, there are a lot of us who feel the same way." He started to push Ed into the house. "Besides, Breda has your father working with him. They're doing everything they can to make sure you and I both don't end up behind bars. I'll be going out with a fight, but I refuse to take anyone out with me that doesn't deserve it."

Ed tried to open his mouth to argue.

"No, Ed, you don't. There are a lot of deserving people in the world, but you aren't one of them. Not for that."

Roy guided the chair into the house, making brief eye contact with Al as he pushed it inside and back to the library-slash-guest room.

Roy helped the teen into his bed before again touching Ed's face. This time, his hand was not brushed away, and a part of Roy wanted to dance at that. "Ed, if you are imprisoned or worse, I'll spend every day wishing it was me instead."

He saw a faint pink color appear to Ed's face, and despite himself, Roy smiled.

0o0o0o0

"Hello," a voice said from the open window of Anton's room. "You're not a very well-liked man right now. That's a risk leaving your window open."

Anton glared. "What do you want, Wrath?" he asked.

"Just to let you know what you're looking for is pointless," Wrath said. "I've heard, you know. They let me in on things, despite what I am because they're all trying to save me, trying to convince me to go back to my 'mother.'" He rolled his eyes. "Like that will ever happen."

The boy kicked his legs as he sat on the windowsill. If Anton didn't know better, he'd have said that the boy was just that, not the homunculus he knew him to be. "You have no idea what you're talking about," Anton said. "You came into things much too late."

"I was constantly with Sloth, who was almost always with Pride. Trust me, I know you're looking for your own pardon, and you aren't going to find it," Wrath said, his tone taunting, even sing-song.

Anton glared at the homunculus and his lilting tones as he teased him.

"You just don't get it, do you? You were disposable." He continued to kick his feet, looking every bit the part of a child. "We all were. The only one who really mattered was Dante, and as long as you were useful, she was happy. She only protected any of us as much as we were worth, and you weren't worth what Ed was."

Refusing to acknowledge the sin's presence, Anton went about his normal routines.

"That Rockbell girl, she's going to Rush Valley," Wrath said. "They're going to find out about you and what you did."

"They won't know for sure, and it's hard to prove. I already heard Alphonse Elric's story. The evidence is gone."

"The 'evidence'?" Wrath repeated. "That's cold. Your own brother…" The sin 'tsked' him. "But you should know that not everything is as it seemed to Alphonse Elric. So if I were you, I'd get back to wearing that necklace again. You might just need it."

Anton looked back at Wrath, but the window was empty, the curtains moving either by wind or by the boy's exit. Anton looked at the dresser of his room and the thick gold chain with the matching, thick pendant sitting on top.


	15. Chapter 15

**Nightmare**

_**Chapter 15**  
_

Anton hooked the chain around his neck. He shuddered at wearing the thing once again, seeing it as it rested against his bare chest. The medallion didn't look like anything special, just a gold medallion on a thick gold chain. It stood out more on his fair skin than silver probably would have, but he hadn't been the one to create it, so the choice of how noticeable it would be had been up to Dante. With the piece of tooth Envy had retrieved from Anton's bedroom, she had made it to look as it did. To Anton, it still felt like a dog collar.

He wondered if anyone would be able to tell, not about the medallion. That was easily hidden beneath a military uniform. He wondered if they would see that he hadn't slept, didn't look as immaculate as usual, and looked like the weight of the world had been put back on his back.

No, not the weight of the world, just the weight of Gregor.

A small part of him wanted to laugh at that, remembering how he'd been so bitter at and embarrassed by his brother he'd made fun of him to friends in his early adolescent years. Almost immediately, the feeling faded and he practically kicked himself. If he was so easy to still make fun of, why had he tried to bring him back?

Anton almost went to touch the medallion, but thought better of it. He was long since past sentimentality. Still, he couldn't help but let his mind wander when the necklace shifted beneath his shirt.

0o0o0o0

_"Thank you, Mrs. Swanson," Anton said, looking up at his neighbor._

_"Think nothing of it," she said, packaging up the last of the food._

_"I'll bring these back over as soon as we're done," Anton said._

_She smiled and handed the ten-year-old a muffin. "Here you are. Why don't you eat this now? Before supper."_

_Anton tried to argue, but knew better; it was hard to get a full meal, even when Mrs. Swanson prepared it, with Gregor eating with him. He thanked her and took a bite out of the top with a smile. Blackberry, with extra sugar sprinkled on the cap of the muffin. "Are you sure you can't make muffins with just the tops?" he asked, not for the first time. "It's the best part." Particularly with the care that Mrs. Swanson took that Anton's mother couldn't even dream of on something so simple as a sweet._

_Mrs. Swanson just smiled and began dishing out supper for herself and her daughter Julia. The woman knew by now that Anton would not stay to eat with them and didn't ask. There wasn't any point in it. Mrs. Swanson was good enough to cook their food for them so they didn't have to eat it straight out of a can or have Anton risk cooking on his own. There was no reason in the boy's mind why they should have to go without much of their own meal as well._

_He'd only just finished eating the top of his muffin when he heard Julia telling Gregor not to do something. Before Anton could make it into the other room, there was a howl from his older brother._

_"He tried to eat the bookends!" Julia told Anton and her mother._

_"The bread was hard, Anton," Gregor said as he spit out a piece of broken tooth, still holding the plaster bread loaf that supported some of their books. The boy picked up the tooth chip from the ground and put it in his pocket. "My tooth."_

_"It's okay, Gregor," Anton reached up and rubbed over his brother's shaven head—after Gregor had resorted to eating his own hair once, their mother had decided it was best just to shave it off. "It's okay. The tooth fairy will come. We'll put this under your pillow tonight, and she will leave you something."_

_"Chocolate?" Gregor asked, eagerly. All thoughts of being upset were lost at that. "Lots of it?"_

_"Maybe some chocolate," Anton said. He still had some left from a party in school, so he knew he could put it under his brother's pillow._

_Gregor smiled, his front tooth now slightly chipped. It was only noticeable if you looked, but it wouldn't matter._

_Anton had to force a smile because he knew that his mother would find out, most likely by Gregor telling her, and Anton would pay for it. He hadn't watched his brother well enough. He took him out of their house and didn't watch him. Anton hoped his mother wouldn't hit his chest again. It was still bruised from last time when his teachers called her up at school for falling asleep in class. It didn't matter then that he hadn't been able to sleep because she and the man she'd brought home had been so loud that he couldn't rest. Anton should have just done better, been better. Then and now._

_He saw the look of pity in Mrs. Swanson's eyes as he left the apartment, arms laden with food that Gregor practically tackled him for._

0o0o0o0_  
_

Jean Havoc shouted out so loudly he actually managed to startle Olivier. "Haha!" he half-laughed, half-spoke. "He's been pardoned! The furher pardoned him!"

Olivier took a deep breath and looked at her younger lover. "Who was pardoned?" she asked.

"The boss!" He grinned over at her. "And all the reasons, his age, his immaturity, his lack of supervision, they all work for Al too."

Despite her "ice queen" reputation, the kind of joy on Jean's face was contagious and she managed a small smile, regardless of her own feelings for those who tried human transmutation. "Let me see it, to see if we can draft something up for the brother."

Jean paused at that, and Olivier felt her tone might have been caught even if her face had still been wearing the tiny smile. "You need to meet them," he said, the broad smile quickly fading. "You'd understand better."

"They were children when they performed human transmutation. I understand that much," she said. "I've heard the stories."

"No," Jean said. "You're helping them, but you've never met them. There's a reason those of us who know them all are willing to do so much for them and the chief. They made a mistake and they've made up for it."

Olivier sighed. She enjoyed Jean for his enthusiasm, but she still had her doubts. She knew enough about alchemy from her family background, even if she didn't practice the science herself. To perform human transmutation was an unforgivable act, and now that she knew exactly what it created, it seemed more so than ever before. And yet, it seemed many had forgiven the Elrics. She simply had difficulty finding out what kind of circumstances would bring a person to consider playing God.

0o0o0o0

_"Oh God," Anton said, holding his arm to his nose to block out the awful smell. "Gregor?" The thirteen-year-old yelled as he tried to tuck in his shirt. "Gregor!" He followed the smell. It was like vomit intensified with strong liquor—he was familiar with the smell in smaller doses from his mother._

_"Anton?" Julia asked as she came into the room, holding her still-unbuttoned shirt over her nose._

_"He got into the fridge," Anton said as he ran to his brother. "Mom had just stocked up on food and her own… things." He could see there were about twenty bottles of liquor now gone. "Julia, get help!" He tried to resuscitate his brother, to clear his throat and airways. He checked for a heartbeat, despite the vomit that lay on the floor and covered his brother._

_He had been getting his first chance to feel Julia's breasts and hadn't checked to see if everything was locked. He hadn't watched over Gregor and nothing he did could bring him back._

0o0o0o0

"I forget what his brother had," Lear said as he fine-tuned some automail. "It was something with two names… Can you hand me that wrench?"

Winry immediately responded and handed over the tool. "So, he was sick?"

"Mental disorder or something like that," Lear said. "Gregor was about twenty years older than Anton. Is that right, Dad?" Dominic only grunted in return. "He was slow, about like dealing with a large five-year-old. And his appetite… damn, the man could eat. The thing… whatever it was he had… Prada-William… No, that isn't it." He turned the bolt in the automail and tested the arm's movement.

"Prader-Willi," Dominic said quietly as he tested a shoulder and arm replacement he was working on. "Meant his brain didn't shut off when he was full. He never felt full his whole life."

"That's right," Lear said, shaking his head. "Gregor died after he got a hold of the entire icebox and the liquor that their mom kept there. Overeating and alcohol poisoning."

"That's terrible," Winry said, while at the same time, she couldn't shake the stories that Ed and Al had told her about the homunculus who ate everything. If Anton had performed a human transmutation to bring his brother back, would the homunculus have been exactly what Ed and Al described?

"The night he got hurt, when you had to fit him up for automail, Dad," Lear said. "The guy that found him like that just left him here. Was really rude to me."

"I am just grateful he found Anton at all and bandaged him up," Dominic said. "He was a good kid. I don't care what you say about him now. He was a good kid."

Winry knew better than to argue with the man.

0o0o0o0

_"You know, if you combined what you are studying in those books in the right way," a middle-aged woman in the library said, "you could be doing something bordering on illegal."_

_"Lucky for me I know what I'm doing," the fourteen-year-old responded back, walking out the door. He didn't expect the woman to follow him. Hell, he hadn't expected her to know that he'd figured out that the books had the necessary pieces to perform human transmutation._

_"Do you now?" she asked. "So you know the components of the human body?"_

_"Water, 35 liters. Carbon, 20 kilograms. Ammonia, 4 liters. Lime, 1.5 kilograms. Phosphorous, 800 grams. Salt, 250 grams. Saltpeter, 100 grams. Sulfur, 80 grams. Fluorine, 7.5 grams, iron, 5 grams, silicon, 3 grams, and trace amounts of 15 other elements," Anton said. "But I know that because I'm an alchemist, not because I want to do anything with that information."_

_"I'm sure," the woman said._

_"I have found it, Sensei," a young woman's voice said. Anton looked her up and down, strong body, odd braided hair, and an eagerness to please the stranger, obviously her teacher. The young woman showed her teacher a drawing of a form of Ishballan alchemy. Anton didn't recognize the symbol, but knew the style._

_"Well," he said. "Good luck studying what those Ishballans have already abandoned."_

_"Good luck doing what you know you shouldn't," the woman said. "But you should be wary. They don't always come back the way you'd expect. Sometimes, certain things are enhanced."_

_Anton left, though it struck him that there had never been anything like what the young woman found in the library before save for the most basic items on Ishballan alchemy. He knew. He spent every waking hour in the library trying to find out about human transmutation. Even before his obsession, the library had been the one escape for him. He wondered how it got there and why the woman would bring her student to a little town known more for automail than alchemy to do research. Their library was good because there was money here, but their library was nothing compared to Eastern Headquarters or Central._

_"Anton," the teen looked and saw Dominic stepping from his shop. "Come here for a minute." He brought out a canvas bag. "Had a guy trying to sell parts to us. Actually thought these would be incentives or something." Dominic saw the logo for an automail part company._

_"Obviously, he didn't know you do things from scratch." Anton put his books into the bag and thanked the older man._

_"Listen, Anton, we're having a birthday party for Lear next week, why don't you come by?"_

_"I'll see," Anton said, but he knew he wouldn't. Lear was a year younger than him and in a totally different crowd. Or, well, he had a crowd, where Anton kept to himself most of the time. "Bye Dominic, and thanks."_

0o0o0o0

Roy was sitting on the back porch with Ed when he saw Havoc coming up through the backyard with a rather fierce yet beautiful blonde. There were enough similarities that Roy realized this had to be the Major General that Havoc had left Roy's service for. His dark eye watched her appraisingly, and he knew that in Havoc's place, he'd have done the same damned thing.

Of course, in his position, he found that he wasn't thinking about her in that way, at least was hardly doing so. And yet, a single look at Ed had him wanting to behave like a show pony—at that thought, he disgustingly made a mental crack about being Mustang the show pony. He sometimes wondered if his mind hadn't completely abandoned him.

"Well, to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from my former subordinate?" Roy asked, grinning when he saw the sheepish expression on Havoc's face.

"About that, Chief," Havoc said, "I'm really sorry. I should have told you."

Roy shook his head and tossed a stray piece of mulch at the lieutenant's head. "No apologies."

"Ow!" he said as it struck him on the forehead.

"It looks as though you have your depth perception adjusted," the Major General said. "I was hoping you might be out of commission so that I wouldn't have competition for my future role as fuhrer."

Roy laughed as he recalled that he'd met her once before, years ago. "If I was confined to a wheelchair and was deaf, mute, and blind, I'd still give you competition as fuhrer."

"Awfully big words coming from a pipsqueak like you," she returned. She smiled. "It has been a long time since we last saw one another, Mustang."

Roy nodded. "Major General Armstrong, I'd like you to meet Major Edward Elric," he said, patting Ed's hand. He only barely noticed Havoc's eyes moving to follow that action.

Ed smiled and greeted her. There was a formality to the major general that slowly faded as she and Ed talked a bit. It was as though something had finally clicked. That sort of thing people had around Ed when they knew his reputation but couldn't match it to him, but finally had done it.

"We have good news," Havoc said. "Looks like Ed has been pardoned for two years."

"Pardoned?" Ed asked, eyes wide and unsure. "For… you mean… M-m… The fuhrer?"

Havoc's smile softened and he nodded. "For that. From him."

"We think that the same reasons would apply to your brother," the woman said. "So you would both be free of a mistake you made as children."

Ed smiled, though it faltered just a little before he spoke. "I can testify, then. I can defend you. And Al. We can… We can find a way to get him free, too."

"You don't have to," Roy told him. "We'll find a way without it."

"I told you I would do this," Ed said and managed a more genuine smile when his eyes met Roy's eye. "Equivalent exchange would mean you'd owe me big time."

0o0o0o0

_"Foolish boy," the stranger from the library said. "You said you knew what you were doing, but obviously, you don't." She knelt beside him and used some kind of medical alchemy to treat his wound._

_"Envy," she called out. Some teenager came out of the shadows. His hair was wild and long, but spiked, and until he spoke, Anton thought he was a girl._

_"What?" the teen snapped._

_"Take him somewhere to get him fixed up. He'll need automail to walk around again."_

_"Why the hell not just leave him here? He made the homunculus, so why does it matter what happens to him?"_

_"Well, if we take care of him, there is a little thing we alchemists all believe in." The woman paused and dressed his wounds. "Equivalent exchange." She grabbed Anton's face in her hand and forced him to look her in the eye. "In exchange for taking care of your wounds and treating them and dealing with the mess you've made, you will be loyal to me, understand?"_

_"I don't know you."_

_She clapped her hands and placed them against his hip, making him cry out in pain. "And here I thought you'd like to have the ability not to scar so much. Oh well, I took it back, should I un-cauterize your wounds as well?"_

_"N-no!" he shouted. "I'll work for you. But I'm just a kid. I don't know what you want."_

_"Neither do I, but you're just the right age to mold you the way I see fit."_

0o0o0o0

Ed looked over at Roy from his place at the table. There was something normal about eating at the dining table. He missed normal.

He and Al were talking about how they could get out of their charges now, and that next would be Riza and Roy—it wasn't hard to see the affection on Al's face when he talked about Riza. Yet, all Ed could think of was himself, about having to testify in court to save Roy. He wanted to, he did. He just was afraid of it. Actually afraid of what that lawyer might bring up, how he might react, and all for an audience.

He knew that de Havilland was close to the fuhrer. How much would he know? Would he know that his body responded toward the end of his imprisonment? That it started to become almost pleasure at times because it was the closest thing Ed would ever get to it? Would he turn it around on him?

He would surely ruin Ed's reputation. He was pardoned, but no one in the public would ever look at him the same if they knew. Not if the papers got a hold of it. He could imagine the headlines now, "The people's alchemist really The People Alchemist." The thought made him sick.

Ed didn't even realize that he had started to go stiff to the point of sliding from his wheelchair until he felt arms around him, familiar arms.

"Shh… Ed, it's okay. I'm here."

Ed knew he was. The problem was in trying to keep Roy there was what had put Ed here on the floor.

He didn't know what kind of man Anton de Havilland was, but he was certain he was evil. Certain that he would ruin them all before he was done.


	16. Chapter 16

**Nightmare**

_**Chapter 16**  
_

"Holy fuck!" Ed yelled, right hand gripping and mangling the metal bar of his bed. His brother could only watch anxiously from the side. He'd have taken the left hand if it wasn't still in the small cast or at least rubbed over Ed's hair or head to comfort him if the elder Elric would have let him. Holding the right hand wasn't an option as Al didn't want his hand to suffer the same fate of the metal bar on the bed.

Instead, Al could only watch as the diminutive older woman tested the last of the nodes for Ed's automail leg.

"You're more of a sadist than Winry!" Ed spat. "Why isn't she here?"

"Had to go visit a client in Rush Valley," Pinako lied as she made an adjustment that had Ed cursing again. Al knew she was lying because he knew why Winry had gone, or at least had the vaguest idea of it. From what he'd picked up in talking with his father, Winry suspected there was information she could get in the automail mecca that could help with the cases facing Al, Roy and Riza.

"What client is more important than me?" Ed asked, breathing heavily as he was coming down from the pain.

Pinako just shook her head, tsking. "Perhaps one who isn't a miniscule shrimp."

Al shook his head as Ed flew off the handle, calling Pinako every reference for short and old that he could think of. Sometimes, their adoptive aunt amazed Al, being so capable of talking normally to Ed, despite everything he'd been through. He could tell her words were carefully chosen, at least so that she didn't say anything that might really hurt Ed unintentionally. To the untrained ear, and probably even Ed's, it sounded as though she was giving him all she had, and that kind of normalcy was something Ed craved, Al was learning.

"All done," the woman said. She reached into a pocket and handed Ed some pills. "These'll help with the pain," she told him.

Ed looked down at the pills in his automail hand then up at Pinako, doubtfully.

"I thought I couldn't have painkillers when I have them put in," Ed said.

"Well, that's the first time around," Pinako said with ease, but Al thought the same as Ed, that the nodes worked better without the painkillers.

"Could have given these things to me earlier, then," Ed said as he popped them into his mouth.

"Listen," Pinako said, patting his hand. "You're going to need rest. I'll leave you alone for now."

Ed closed his eyes as both Al and Pinako left the room, leaving him to sleep, if he could after all the pain.

"Well, hopefully, those will knock him out," Pinako said once they were outside of hearing distance from the door. "His doctor thought they would."

"So, they won't hinder the healing?" Al asked.

"Well, they might," Pinako admitted, "but I don't see your brother getting back into the military after all this. Besides that, he deserves a little rest and time without pain. The most important part where there be no pain killers is already done."

Al nodded, but wondered what Ed would think about the woman making that decision for him. He wondered what Winry would say and shuddered at that.

0o0o0o0

"You can have a look," the doctor said, holding up a small handheld mirror. "It isn't a perfect match yet, but they just don't make them Xingian black here in Amestris. This is a very, very dark brown, though."

"I saw it when you showed it to me. I know what color it is," Roy snapped a bit too quickly. He dared a quick glance up to the mirror and was nearly sick. A dark chocolate brown eye stared at him beneath his scarred eyelid. It moved, but not as much as his real one. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it didn't stop it from feeling any less wrong.

"We can order one for you once you're out from house arrest," the doctor said. Roy wasn't sure whether he wanted to thank the man or hit him for saying when, rather than if Roy would be out.

"Thanks," he managed, wishing he couldn't see Riza watching him carefully out of the corner of his real eye.

The doctor smiled and nodded, leaving Roy where he was on the bed, fumbling for the black piece of cloth the doctor told the military man was an option if he really didn't like the eye. In his mind, there was no option. He had no desire for the large scar to be seen by everyone in the general public, or even the not so general public. He would suffer the scar if the eye actually worked, but there was no reason to have the ghastly scar exposed if the eye wasn't even real. Hell, it didn't even match.

He was in the middle of tying the large patch to his head when he saw Riza looking up at him. She was giving him one of those looks, the kind that said she doubted what he was doing at the moment, but she wasn't going to outright criticize him. It was better if she didn't because Roy certainly wasn't in the mood for it.

"Do you want to come downstairs, Roy?" she asked. "I can hear Al puttering in the kitchen. He's learned a few recipes from me, so it should be more edible than the last few times he cooked."

"You and Al spend a lot of time around one another, don't you?" Roy asked, still not sure if he wanted to move from his bed and downstairs where Pinako Rockbell would be. He knew that everyone was aware he'd been the one to fire the bullet that killed the woman's son and daughter-in-law, but that didn't make it any easier to face her.

"Asking about Al to stall from going downstairs to get food you need isn't going to work, sir," Riza said, her tone gone completely military at that moment.

Roy sighed and shifted in his bed. "And nagging me about going downstairs isn't going to stop me from asking about you and Al. What is going on?"

"Absolutely nothing, Roy," she said.

He shook his head. "You're a terrible liar, Riza," he said. "He's become a handsome young man who can't seem to stop staring at you." She glared at him. "And I've caught you blushing once or twice." He smiled, glad to have this opportunity to tease her, not to mention distract him from his issues over the eye now underneath the patch.

"Hardly, Roy," she said, folding her arms across her chest defensively. "He's nineteen biologically, fifteen chronologically, with the experience of a ten-year-old. None of those are ages I'm interested in being with, thank you very much."

"Let me tell you something, Riza, with the Elrics, no matter how much the brain and heart argue, the heart always wins." He slid from the bed and headed downstairs. "Well, at least this feels better than bulky white bandages."

He made his way slowly down the stairs, looking around for Pinako and feeling somewhat relieved not to find her. The brigadier general was slow in making his way to the kitchen, body still aching, even if he was nearly recovered. He saw Al was at the counter making grilled cheese sandwiches.

"Hello, Al," Roy said.

"There's tomato soup and grilled cheese. Anything else you need?" the teen asked.

"No, thank you," Roy replied. He couldn't help but notice that Al's attitude toward him had changed slightly. A lot of things about the young man had, it seemed, as he was now treating Ed much more like he did when he was in the suit of armor, probably before that even, but Roy had no memories to draw from prior to their attempt to bring their mother back from the dead.

Al made Roy a bowl of soup and handed him a grilled cheese, taking just a moment to glance at the patch.

"I talked to my father," the young man said. "He said Winry's found out some interesting things about the lawyer in our cases. Lieutenant Breda said he's not above a little blackmail if it gets us off scot free." Al smiled at him, and Roy was genuinely grateful that after all of the bitterness he'd received from the younger brother, Al seemed to be coming to terms with whatever relationship Roy had with Ed.

Mentally, Roy kicked himself for referring to what he had with Ed as a relationship because of the many connotations that single word had. Friendship might be better suited to where things stood now, but that word, no matter how true it was, didn't seem to feel strong enough. Not for how he felt.

"Roy," he heard Al say, "did you need anything else?"

The brigadier general shook his head. "Sorry. Got lost in thought."

"Must not have been very pleasant. You were frowning." Al smiled and went back to cooking. It was frightening to think that this young man who seemed to be able to read people so well might very well become a single unit, if Riza would recognize the looks he saw her giving the teen.

It didn't hurt that it would make him feel somewhat less of a pervert for harboring whatever feelings he had for Ed.

"So did you think you were hiding from me upstairs?" a voice asked him, and Roy visibly cringed. There was Pinako Rockbell, eating at his dining room table, giving him a decidedly stern look.

"I was getting fitted for a glass eye," he said honestly. Some people would have been abashed by the comment, but instead, she held her ground, eating another piece of the grilled cheese.

"You still don't look happy to see me," she said.

Was he supposed to? Roy really didn't think so. It wasn't as though he had parties with the survivors of Ishbal, so why would this be different.

"Ed's going to get his leg back, I thought that would make a ladder-climber like you happy," she said.

"It makes no difference to my career. I have no intention of putting him back in the field. He would have to strongly persuade me to do so," Roy said, sitting down at the head of the table.

"Good," she said, looking satisfied with his answer. "Though I'd prefer he wouldn't be able to persuade you at all."

Roy nodded and began to eat.

"I heard what you did for him," she said. "You've done a lot for him, even if the rest of the world can't see it, but I know you saved him. Thank you for that. He's like a grandson to me."

"Anyone would have done it," Roy said.

"Take down the fuhrer and begin a revolution? Not likely," the woman said. She leaned back in her chair. "I may not understand the military or why you take orders, but I know you have to do it. I also know that it takes a hell of a lot more courage to see that something is wrong and to go about changing it. You did what was expected before." Unspoken were the words, when you killed my family. "You did what was needed now."

Roy looked up and saw a very determined look on the woman's face. Looking at her and thinking of the dinner a few nights back with Olivier Armstrong, he thought the two women would get along well.

The rest of their meal was spent in silence. He was forgiven, as much as he probably ever would be, by the woman and she was grateful he'd saved Ed. That was enough, more than he thought he really deserved.

"Is Ed awake?" he asked finally as he finished, hoping that one of the three people now at the table with him could answer.

"He'll be out for a while," Pinako said. "What I did took a lot out of him, but the painkillers probably finished him off."

Roy gave a nod and excused himself from the table. He stood and put his dishes in the sink, grimacing at the idea that he was now capable of helping out with the chores around the house. He wouldn't be able to relegate the work to Al or Riza, and his maid wasn't likely to come while he was under house arrest. He wasn't known as lazy without good reason; he hated menial tasks.

The brigadier general walked from the kitchen and out into the main hall, heading to Ed's room, which would forever be Ed's room in his mind because it was a place far more interesting with the teen there than it was with dusty, dank books.

He slowly turned the doorknob and walked into the room, just to check on Ed.

The blond was lying on the bed, the bangs that were now the longest part of his hair were matted to his forehead. His face looked somewhat pained at the moment, despite the drugs. Roy made his way over to the teen's bedside and gently brushed aside the damp pieces of hair. The young man's face relaxed, even moved slightly into his touch. That simple, unconscious act on Ed's part made Roy feel a bit too warm inside. Unfortunately, it was those little butterflies and warm feelings were what was making him consider something incredibly stupid, not to mention detrimental to his health if he got caught.

As the rational part of his mind shut down completely, Roy leaned down and pressed his lips to the teen's. It was quick, partly because Roy didn't want to wake him, partly because the rational part of his mind turned on quickly and said it was a horrible idea.

Roy put his hands to his lips, trying not to think about the way Ed's chapped ones felt against his, how he wished they'd been more responsive, how he'd felt the tiniest twitch in them as they touched his own.

Panicked, he left the room as quickly, yet silently as possible.

0o0o0o0

Heymans Breda had his arms folded across his chest as he looked up at Anton de Havilland defiantly. The man's cool blue eyes were glaring down at Heymans, and the redhead wasn't giving an inch. Anton was being entirely irrational, insisting that Havoc or someone else had removed evidence, or tampered with it.

"I am telling you that if anything was removed, a copy of it was made," Heymans said, glaring at Anton. "You have the original or a duplicate of all of the forms and files inside."

"I refuse to believe it," Anton said.

There was something in the other man's eyes, but Heymans couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. Still, he took a guess it had something to do with what Winry told Hohenheim a few days ago.

"Are you looking for a pardon for someone special?" Heymans asked. "Maybe for yourself?"

"Why would I need a pardon?" Anton asked, his face not giving anything away. Even that slightest glimmer that had been there was now gone.

"Why are you so sure something must be missing from the files that held pardons for some of the fuhrer's closest and highest profile people? Have you possibly done something pardonable? At least, by the old administration?"

"If I find that a single file is missing, Heymans, I swear to you that you will regret it," Anton said as he turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

Heymans shook his head and looked over his shoulder at Hohenheim. "And people wonder why he wasn't able to convince me to enter the state's law program."

"I'm sure he managed to convince several others," Hohenheim said. "He represents just about everything that a successful lawyer should. But, if Dante found him first as I suspect she did, then he had to sell his soul to get it."

The certainty in the other man's voice, combined with the sheer age and wisdom in it, made Heymans shudder. He could not help but look at the older man, eyes searching, but not really knowing for what.

"Every day I am grateful that it was your commanding officer that discovered my sons and not Dante," he said. "With the drive that Edward is known for, he would not have passed up the opportunity to fix Alphonse, regardless of the cost. And if there was any hesitation, she would have broken him until he no longer cared."

Heymans looked back to the closed door, trying to picture the boss behaving like Anton. It was something he couldn't and didn't want to visualize.

0o0o0o0

Anton walked through Central, the words half-sung by Wrath running round his head.

_"Trust me, I know you're looking for your own pardon, and you aren't going to find it."_

There was no pardon for him. He'd always hoped the thing existed. It was only a matter of time until one of the laundry list of activities he participated in under the guidance of the fuhrer came to light. If there was a pardon, then it wouldn't have mattered. He'd been counting on its existence because in the end, eliminating the fuhrer and being pardoned for his crimes while serving him were the only options left for Anton.

After Lab 5 was broken into by the Elric brothers, Anton had been walking on thin ice. Just the slightest misstep and he knew he'd be laid upon the alter as a sacrifice for Dante's plans. He had been the loyal dog until that point, obedient and never making a mistake. But when Lab 5 was broken into, when Envy hadn't been capable of protecting it, when the guards Anton himself had created were not able to stand up to the Elrics, the disguised alchemist knew it was just a matter of time before he was disposed of.

It had been apparent to Anton that once Dante had the Philosopher's Stone, which Alphonse Elric had been hand-delivering to her, Anton's life would be pointless. If Alphonse and the man that Anton just saw with Heymans had managed to defeat Dante, he would still be as good as dead by the fuhrer's hands. Pride had always followed the lead of his creator. He knew no matter what happened below central, Pride had to die, and to that end, he had done his part to eliminate the ever-loyal homunculus.

He'd knocked out the soldiers standing guard with alchemy they didn't expect from the lawyer, giving Mustang easy access. Anton had even spoken to Selim, convincing him that his dad would want his most important item with him at the house. He hadn't expected the boy to bring it back personally. Selim Bradley's death was his fault, and he knew it. He'd just wanted the boy to keep it somewhere in the house, somewhere it could burn and in turn kill Pride. Instead, the boy had handed it to an infuriated homunculus who now only cared about his own survival.

And now, he was waiting for the other shoe to fall.

Anton de Havilland knew he was a condemned man walking free among the rest of society. It was just a matter of time until everyone else realized it as well.

0o0o0o0

Ed was fighting the exhaustion from the pain as he was still contemplating what Roy had done to him. Why the hell had the man kissed him? Why did he do it when Ed was asleep? Did he know Ed wasn't entirely asleep?

"Asshole," Ed muttered. He was confused, more than before, and he just didn't need it right now.

"I hope you're talking about someone else," a smooth voice said from the doorway.

Ed started at the sound and looked up at the owner. "No, I wasn't," Ed said, fighting the heat that was slowly fading into his face. He thought he could go about this in a roundabout way, but he was feeling more and more like his old self—strange twisting in his stomach when Roy was around aside—he was just going to be blunt about it. "What the hell was that earlier?"

Roy was now the one turning pink. "Earlier? I didn't get to talk to you before Pinako saw you."

"This didn't involve talking, bastard," Ed said, glaring up at him. "You kissed me. Why? Was it out of pity? Were you trying to convince me to testify for you? Because I've already agreed to do that, and I'm not going to break my word. Were you just trying to mess with me? What was it?"

"I… I thought you were asleep," Roy said.

"Pain makes me exhausted, not dead to the world," Ed said. He was angry, not just at Roy, but also at Pinako for giving him those damned pills earlier.

"You'd had painkillers," he said.

"I didn't take them," Ed said. "They mess with recovery, and I want to be back to my old self as soon as I can, pain or not. So no, I wasn't sound asleep." Then a thought struck Ed that made slight fear choke his throat. He knew it couldn't be the case, but the mere thought of it was scary. He'd let Roy in. What if… "Why would you kiss someone you thought was asleep? It's like taking advantage of them."

He'd been taken when he'd been nearly drugged, woken with the feeling of Pride ramming into him dry. He slept against a wall when he could, to at least have the warning of being pulled away from it before he felt that pain.

"… would never." There were arms around him now. A cinnamony, musky scent filling his nostrils. "Ed, never."

He looked up at the dark-haired man, saying nothing as his eyes scanned over the face and the black patch. "Why?" Ed finally, after what felt like an eternity, managed to croak out.

"Because I'm not brave enough to do it when you're awake," Roy said.

Ed frowned because his brain at the moment felt incapable of computing that single sentence. It was just eleven words spoken in the language he knew, but it could have been ancient Xingian for all he cared at the moment. It simply made no sense. Those words implied that Roy somehow wanted to kiss him. That maybe the playboy of Central and Eastern Command was thinking of Ed in a way that heterosexual, woman-killer bachelors just didn't do.

"I'm sorry," Roy said. He was still pink. Why was a man who exuded confidence that danced all over the fine line to arrogance blushing because of _Ed_? "I shouldn't have… I... We've become friends now, and you trusted me—"

Ed leaned up and pressed his lips to Roy's, then fell back against the bed, his leg screaming its opposition of his movement. "Equivalent exchange," he said, noticing the fact that he could taste Roy on his lips; he hadn't even known Roy had a taste. "Just so you don't go on a guilt trip on me."

He looked at Roy's shocked expression as he tried to stop the nervous trembling in his own body, wondering where the courage he'd been so sure was gone and resurfaced from.

0o0o0o0

"What is it?" Olivier asked as she looked up from her desk. She and Jean had been going over the details of her speech to the generals' council. She felt she was guaranteed the position of fuhrer, but didn't want to jinx it just yet. She looked at the little man with his hands nervously fumbling with a piece of paper.

"I'm Gustav Messerschmitt," the man said as he slowly entered the room. The squat man appeared nervous, yet pleased with himself. To Olivier, he looked a bit like the cat that ate the canary, plump and smug, yet afraid of getting in trouble for it.

"And?" she asked.

"I have information regarding the head of the JAG department," he said. "As head of the law department, I think it is wrong that Anton de Havilland was involved in questionable activities prior to heading the department."

Olivier was careful to school her features not to reveal any interest in what the man was offering them, and currently had the sword she carried on her at all times pushed down into Jean's leg to ensure he did the same.

"Are you telling us you are doing this out of the goodness of your heart?" she asked, knowing it would certainly be otherwise.

"I am hoping that transgressions I did during the previous administration will not reflect back upon my future career," he said. He walked closer to the desk. "After all, you can see in this the character of my direct supervisor."

Olivier held out her hand, her face making it clear this was a demand, not a request for the information. As the paper was placed into her hand, she flattened it onto her desk. The man across from her had crumpled the thing up quite a bit it seemed.

"Lab 5," Jean whispered in her ear as he leaned over her shoulder.

She saw the name too. Coming from the north, she would not have been so aware of the connotations of the lab, but her lover and secretary—a winning combination in her humble opinion—had told her most of the Elrics' escapades, including this one.

The memo involved both de Havilland and the fuhrer, discussing something with Lab 5. The connotations of this single sheet of paper meant they could arrest the man, if they could prove him an alchemist. No one else would pursue the trial, and they would have won.

"Thank you for bringing this by," she said, handing the vital paper to Jean.

"What can you guarantee me with it?" Messerschmitt asked. "I have been seeking the position of head of the department, and I'd hope—"

"This piece of paper guarantees we don't execute you for what your colleagues have already turned in on you," Olivier said with a smile. "I think head of a department is a lofty idea for someone who was siphoning off of funds for their department's pro bono work, or the fact that your competition for second in command suffered a rather suspicious accident that wasn't quite an accident. All the evidence in that case managed to disappear as well, though one print was uncovered recently. Strangely enough, it matched yours. If I were you, I would be grateful that the guards waiting for you will not be taking you to your death thanks to this little piece of paper."

Jean walked by Messerschmitt and asked the guards outside to do exactly as Olivier had just ordered. The information she'd just received was fantastic, but she wasn't going to reward someone for being a rat, both before and after the death of the previous fuhrer.


	17. Chapter 17

**Nightmare**

_**Chapter 17**  
_

Kiefer Sullivan was nervous as he went down into the cave. "Tristan, I don't like it here," he said to his older brother who was several steps ahead of him with his friend Peter.

"Be a man," Tristan called back. "It's just a cave, but I heard there's a whole city down here once you get to the end."

"And I heard there's a monster that lives down here who likes to eat little boys."

"Tristan…" Kiefer said, voice as shaky as he felt.

They could hear noise now, the loud sound of something crying out. "Lust…"

Tristan stopped where he was. "Let's go back," he said.

"We're not going back," Peter said. "Someone's gotten there ahead of us and is trying to scare us."

"Brother… Anton…" the voice said. "Hate… Want Lust…."

Kiefer only moved onward by the force of his older brother's hand on his shirt. They looked up at one another, and the young boy saw a look of fear on his brother's face.

0o0o0o0

"We need to arrest him now," Olivier told the generals who surrounded the table. "The man was involved in one of the worst scandals of recent years."

"He was following orders," one general said. "Under those same rules, you would have us arrest Roy Mustang or your own brother. With more about Ishbal out in the open, their actions will come under question."

"But Laboratory Five wasn't an official military action. It was a secret lab created by the fuhrer…"

"Who was the leader of this country at one time." An elderly general stood and looked at her. "The country is making a drastic shift from what it once was, but there were good people who got caught up in the mix."

"And are any of you prepared to defend de Havilland as being good?" She snapped.

"Are you prepared to have to defend your brother as not being wrong?" another said.

"We do not have the evidence necessary to prove he did anything other than follow orders at Laboratory Five. If we find out that he performed any acts that so go against humanity that even under great duress the average person would not do them, then we can do something about it."

Olivier was furious, not just because what she'd wanted to happen hadn't, but because she knew they were right. The military was working to set itself apart from the old administration and just going after the head of JAG without just cause. She had seen his record, aside from the fact that he took the cases that no one else in his department wanted to deal with and a memo that showed he knew about Lab 5. There was nothing more than a few sentences assuring the fuhrer that guards would be posted at the lab.

The man's record, even the darker spots, only showed him to be someone who had the fuhrer's confidence. He was someone who was trusted, but they couldn't prove him to be the monster that the Major General suspected he was.

0o0o0o0

"Hey, Ed," Roy said, bringing in a basket of sweets. "Seeing as you aren't a prisoner here, it looks as though you can receive gifts from your adoring public." He set the basket on Ed's lap. "I didn't look to see who it was from, but the soldiers outside said they already checked it for anything dangerous. I think they might have gotten away with one or two bites as well.

"Who is it from?" Ed asked.

"Read the card," Roy said with a chuckle as he ran his hand through Ed's hair. Ed didn't know why, but he'd found that he liked when Roy touched him, looked at him… kissed him. They had done that twice since the first time, and Ed had to admit Roy was good. Not once did Roy do more than that, and for that, the teen was grateful. He wasn't ready yet to face anything beyond the light kisses and gentle touches.

It was strange for Ed, because the thought of touching others or vice versa still took effort and willpower to manage. But with Roy, as long as he didn't surprise the teen, the touches were welcomed, even craved.

"Izumi and Sig Curtis," Ed read with a smile. "I thought maybe they had forgotten about me." The smile faltered, but as he read the note on the back, his teacher railed about how the military wouldn't let her visit because she wasn't an approved guest. The smile returned.

"No one has forgotten about you," Roy said. "Apparently, Falman and Fuery have been placed on fanmail duty. We've all been getting them, but you more than anyone else. People are grateful you're well and there have even been a few marriage proposals in there."

"Not interested," Ed said, beginning to rip through the basket. "Anything in here that you like?"

Roy grabbed a candy bar. "This will do."

Ed smiled at him. "Be glad that isn't one of my favorites."

"Hey, you offered," Roy said as he took a seat at the end of Ed's bed. "How's the leg feeling?" He began unwrapping the chocolate bar.

"Better," Ed said. "Auntie Pinako thinks I can have the leg attached tomorrow. That will be a relief. Just to get it over and done with. Then maybe once my left arm's strong enough I can manage some crutches."

Ed knew as well as Roy did that he wasn't likely to get to use them, but it was easier to pretend that he might.

He looked through the basket full of candy and sweets. "I can't believe teacher would send me something like this." He really was surprised at the amount of junk food that was in the basket from the woman. She was too much of a mother to him to give him so many things that had no nutritional value. Did she simply do it out of pity? Did she feel sorry for him?

"The military won't let anything be brought in that isn't already wrapped because you're being housed with the rest of us, and we're still criminals of the state.

"Oh." Ed looked up at Roy curiously. He'd all but read the teen's mind.

He found a piece of cinnamon candy and popped it in his mouth after removing it from its plastic wrapper.

The older man began tearing open his own candy bar. "There's talk they'll drop the charges against your brother," Roy said, taking a bite of the chocolate and trying to prevent any of the peanuts inside from falling down his shirt. "Hohenheim apparently has some friends and managed to pull a few strings to Al."

"How?" Ed asked. "Isn't that lawyer de Havilland trying his case as well?"

"He is," Roy said. "But thanks to some well-placed articles in the paper, your brother is now viewed as a hero. So am I, as a matter of fact, but no rumors are out yet that anyone has any intention of releasing me."

"They should," Ed said. "You're a hero."

Roy just shook his head as he chewed a bit more of his candy bar. It was a common stumbling point for them both. Ed felt that Roy deserved recognition for everything he'd done. For saving him. He'd talked to the older man enough to know that he was still trying to redeem himself from Ishbal and none of Ed's arguments would convince him that he'd long since done that.

Then, a thought struck Ed, one that he wasn't pleased to realize. "What happens if Al's released?"

"He's a free man," Roy said with a tight-lipped smile. Ed knew that look. It was Roy's attempt to be reassuring when there was much more going on that he just didn't want anyone to know.

"And…" Ed said, expectantly.

"And, you will both likely be removed from the house if he is."

"They can't," Ed said, eyes searching Roy's face.

"They will, Ed. Al is your brother and they will not be able to justify you both staying here when you aren't being charged with anything. And even if you get to stay, Riza and I will be thrown into jail, I'm sure." Ed opened his mouth to protest that suggestion. "Not necessarily permanently, but they would treat us more like a normal prisoner. It was only because of my health condition at the time that they let me stay here. You were an easy excuse to keep me here rather than trying to put me in jail where I may have died from my injuries."

"But… I don't want to go. I don't want you to go," Ed said.

"I know," Roy said. "But you'll have your brother and your father with you. And I'll only be in jail a short time."

"If you don't end up killed in the process. Since they're filling the prison with the fuhrer's supporters, I wouldn't think you'd be very popular there."

Roy smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes and it was in no way as comforting as he obviously intended it to be. "I will be fine."

0o0o0o0

"Do you have any comment, Captain de Havilland, on the Elric, Mustang and Hawkeye cases?" "Are rumors true that you plan to drop all charges in the case of Alphonse Elric?" "What is the Philosopher's Stone and why was it a crime for Mr. Elric to use it?" "Are claims true that Brigadier General Mustang saved Major Elric from imprisonment at the fuhrer's hands and repeated assaults on his person?" "Was Lieutenant Colonel Archer really out of his mind by the end of his life due to extensive and painful automail surgeries?"

Anton finally turned on the reporters, the expression on his face cold and calculating. "There are all ongoing cases. I cannot comment on any of them. So, regardless of what you ask or how you ask it, it would go against my license as a lawyer to speak of any of them."

He turned on his heel and headed up the steps to the JAG office. The reporters were turning on him, and it wouldn't be long before they found out his own history. Anton was well aware that he was living on borrowed time.

"Messerschmitt has been arrested," he was told the moment he entered the door to his office.

"I'm honestly surprised it took them so long," he said, voice calm. "Lieutenant, I'll need someone to sign some changes in my estate, my will. With the number of people who are finding themselves incarcerated or who died in the battle a few months ago, I find a reordering of my priorities is necessary."

"Yes, sir," the young woman said. "Are you certain you want me to do it, Captain?"

"Absolutely." The woman, who was probably around twenty-eight was a good lawyer, the type that would never have made it under the old administration. One that Anton was sure would do well under this new one.

0o0o0o0

Riza was going stir-crazy in the house. She needed out, with fresh air and other company. She didn't know how either of the Elric brothers could stand it. But then again, Ed wasn't quite the same as she'd known him before, and he had Roy. She smiled at that. The two hadn't outright been caught, but the smiles on both of their faces showed more than enough that something had taken place to make them both inordinately happy. She was glad for them.

She and Alphonse were a different story. He was an attractive young man, but he was so young. He would do better with someone closer to his own age. He'd realize this if he was out amongst the rest of the world and Riza herself would feel less torn if she wasn't facing him day in, day out.

He was a wonderful young man and there were so many redeeming qualities that he possessed. She couldn't deny that there were plenty of reasons to have an attraction for him, but also doubted that given different circumstances she'd feel the same.

So lost in her thoughts, Riza was, that she was actually startled when she felt a warm hand lightly wrapping itself around her wrist.

"Riza?"

She looked up into the face of the very man she had been thinking about. "You looked lost in thought, and the water's running."

"Oh," she said, immediately going to turn off the water.

"You know, I think my father may be working overtime to redeem himself," Al said as he leaned against the counter. "All the newspapers are reporting are stories of how we all saved Amestris and that keeping us locked in this house is cruel and unusual punishment for such an act."

"There's talk they'll release you," Riza said.

"I know," he said with a frown.

"You can't tell me you're enjoying being cooped up here like this."

"It has its benefits." Al smiled at her, pushing back some of his brown hair from his face. "And if Brother and I are gone, then I have a lot more to worry about with you and Roy in jail."

Resolving herself, Riza looked over at the young man. "Alphonse," she said. "We have been stuck in this house for weeks. And, I think that you need a chance to explore the world and yourself that you simply won't find here. I know how you feel about me, and I know that currently, I find myself confused. I want time when we both know we have other options to see if this," She gestured between them. "is really worth anything."

"So that's not a rejection, but a wait and see?" Al asked.

She nodded, grateful that the younger brother was more understanding than the elder. "Think of it for both of our peace of mind. Wouldn't it be better to know we chose one another because that was how it was meant to be rather than because that was what was convenient?"

Al smiled faintly and nodded. "Would you mind if I at least kissed you again? As a reminder?"

"No, you can't," Riza said, ignoring the somewhat abashed look on his face just before she put her hand on his neck and pulled him down to her height so she could kiss him. He responded tentatively before she ended it.

0o0o0o0

Hohenheim was discussing another form of media work that they could do to change the public's opinion of his son as well as Roy and Riza. Heymans had doubted him at first, but it was obvious that the man's years of experience taught him more than just alchemy.

"So, do you think we could try to find some evidence on Lab 5?" Heymans suggested.

"I think a smear campaign on de Havilland should be a last resort," Hohenheim said. "At least at the moment. Men who have nothing left to lose become desperate, and we've already seen that he seems to have a grudge against my sons."

Heymans nodded, remembering how Anton had reacted a few days back. He couldn't prosecute Ed and knew it was a losing battle with Al, but somehow, there was a need to hurt them both, and Mustang especially.

"We already suspect he performed the human transmutation to create Gluttony," Hohenheim said.

"But that landed him as the fuhrer's unseen right-hand man," Heymans added.

"Did it?" Hohenheim asked. "The young man that Winry said they describe in Rush Valley is not the same one that the people here describe. Perhaps de Havilland had no option." Hohenheim looked into the window of a book store, one that carried alchemy books. "Do you mind if we go in here?"

Heymans shook his head, expecting that the books were going to be for Ed. Hohenheim had gone back and forth over whether to get something for his eldest son and what it should be for days. The man obviously feared that any contact he might have could damage Ed.

"Someone can appear to be the closest confidant but in fact be their most captive prisoner," Hohenheim said as he browsed through some of the titles. "And if that is true, I can guess at why he'd have some resentment toward them all."

The lieutenant had never considered before that what Anton had done in the past had been anything but his own choice. If Hohenheim was right, he had to approach things with the older lawyer in a totally different manner.

The two men walked through the store and Heymans was glad to see that Hohenheim was finally making a purchase of some kind for his son. The lieutenant left the store to wait on the sidewalk and had been there only a minute before he heard screaming coming from what seemed like below the streets.

He searched for the source and found two boys yelling at the top of their lungs for help.

"It's going to get us!" the youngest one yelled as the eldest just looked like he was struggling to stay coherent. Heymans suspected he was injured.

"Hohenheim!" Breda yelled as he struggled to get the grate off of the drain. The older man ran from the store and used the alchemy that only those who performed human transmutation could do. With the grate now cleared, thanks to Hohenheim, Breda lowered his arms into the sewer to lift the youngest boy out.

"Tristan's been hurt, and Peter, that thing ate him…" the young boy, only about eight or nine, said.

"What ate him?" Heymans asked as Hohenheim used alchemy to get the elder boy, who looked about twelve, from the sewer.

"This big thing. Had three heads. The heads looked like bald human heads. It was big and scary."

"Let's get this boy to the doctor," Hohenheim said as he pulled the boy out finally. "He's lost his hand."

"It ate it," the little boy said. "He hasn't talked since. Another boy saved us. If he hadn't…" The young boy shuddered.

The two men exchanged looks. "The blood flow was stopped by crude alchemy," Hohenheim said. "But we still need to get him to a doctor. Now."

0o0o0o0o0

"He's killed a little boy," Wrath said. He looked at the lawyer. "Doesn't that bother you? He killed a boy. He's your responsibility."

"The way he is now is Dante's fault. I created him, but not to be like this. Not even to be like he was, but at least then he was manageable," Anton said, pacing around the room.

"Now that Gluttony knows he's got a new food source, how long do you think it's going to be before he tries to come up here? He's been eating rocks and cement for weeks now. He's huge, but not as big as he's going to get, and when he does… No one's going to be able to stop him. Except maybe you, and you aren't doing anything about him."

The boy eyed the other man with anger, anger at all of the ones who made the others like him. He was angry at his creator, at Ed for creating and then destroying his mother, at Dante for how she manipulated them all, at Hohenheim for creating the thing that made Wrath realize the difference between full homunculi strength and the draining he was feeling now as his powers diminished, and now at Anton for not doing something about his own creation.

"They're going to send down troops. Plenty of food for Gluttony, and they won't know how to stop him. But you won't go along, will you?"

"I'll keep them from sending anyone down. You just keep doing your patrols. You've said yourself that he's all but mindless in this form. He'll forget and go back to eating the rock and mortar."

"I don't take orders from you," Wrath said as he stood again in the open window. "And you're an idiot if you think he's going to forget the one thing that drives him on, his hunger."

"I told you I won't let anything happen. I meant that." The lawyer approached Wrath and slammed the window shut on the other side of the boy.


	18. Chapter 18

**Nightmare**

_**Chapter 18**  
_

Roy was in the process of showing Ed why people used their tongue when they kissed. Given what the teen had been through, Roy was (pleasantly) surprised when that conversation came up. Ed had argued that kissing with just lips was "incredible enough"—and that did wonders for Roy's ego because he knew that _he_ was the one to show him, the only one to show him.

Roy had just smiled when Ed had asked him what the point was in "trying to jam your tongue down another person's throat." With that statement in mind and Ed's rather shocked expression, Roy hadn't dared to expect a yes from Ed when he'd asked if the teen wanted to find out.

Ed really wasn't very good at maneuvering his tongue around Roy's. The kiss was not at all as perfect as story books might lead you to believe. It was really a fantasy to think that when two lovers—that word might have been preemptive in Roy's case, but was close enough and was certainly what the romance novels used—kissed for the first time, it worked as though they were one person. Instead, tongues tried to match and move against one another in what should have been an almost erotic oral dance. Instead, they were practically battling and wounding one another in the process.

He pulled back after their teeth smacked against one another's.

"Okay," Ed said, rubbing his front teeth. "I definitely don't get it"

"It takes practice," Roy said, massaging his gums through his upper lip.

Ed looked at him doubtfully. Roy was about to propose a second experiment as the entire building began to shake.

0o0o0o0

"Oh, shit, shit shit!" Jean said as he was unceremoniously thrown from the bed he'd been sharing with the older woman these last few weeks. He'd managed, as he bounced off, to have enough sense to grab a pillow to take down with him. However, as he'd been roused from the beginning of a nice, deep sleep, he didn't have enough to break the fall directly onto his butt. Apparently, some other instinct told him he should cover his modesty as he went down.

Olivier, of course, manage not only to look dignified as she bounced around, but to crawl to one of the bedposts for support. Though she was kneeling, she was in a stance very similar to her usual intimidating one, reserved for appearing before heads of the military. The blond woman wrapped an arm around the bedpost and looked down at Havoc on the floor. Her raised, thin eyebrow truly made him picture her in uniform with her sword—even though she didn't have a shred of even a sheet on her.

The ground continued to shake, items falling from the shelves, furniture falling.

Still clutching the pillow to his most sensitive area, Jean climbed back onto the bed. "An earthquake?" he asked.

"No," Olivier said, though both were nearly shouting because of the noise. "It has a pattern. Like someone trying to bust through a locked door."

Jean paused and listened. To his horror, he realized she was right. But what was big enough to make an entire city—or at least an entire house—shake like this? And what were they trying to "bust through" for?

0o0o0o0

The rumblings seemed to die down as Hohenheim released the woman he'd been comforting not a few moments before. He'd just pulled her back from a falling shelf and still had her in his arms.

"I believe you've now saved everyone in my family," she said with a relieved expression.

Breda had remained in the room while Hohenheim explained to the mother that he could offer some help to her oldest son, who was now missing his right hand.

"I'm happy to do it," he replied with a similar look of relief.

They walked into the hospital room where the two boys were being treated, both looking terrified, obviously suspecting the earthquakes were caused by what had injured them the evening before. "I promise you, I'll be in touch again to get your information to the automail mechanics I was talking about. But at the moment, I really must go to see how bad the damage is in the rest of the city."

"When he says he knows a good automail mechanic," Breda said as he offered a grin to the boys in the beds, "he means it. He's the Fullmetal Alchemist's father."

"Really?" both boys asked, the younger, despite all of the horrors he'd seen, more capable of an excited expression as he asked. The other was still pained physically and weighed with guilt.

Hohenheim nodded and managed a smile at the family of three not all that different from the one he left behind. "We really should go." He offered a nod to them all before slipping out of the room.

"Thank you, Mr. Elric, Mr. Breda," the mother called. Hohenheim had given her no last name, so it was obvious she was assuming he shared Ed's.

When Breda caught up to meet Hohenheim's stride, the alchemist frowned at him. "Why did you tell them that? I don't even know if Ed would want to claim me?"

"Well, I don't know about Ed's feelings about you," Breda said, "but I know that he wouldn't begrudge those boys the little bit of hope they had when they realized who you were."

Hohenheim sighed. "Ed really does that for people, even if it's just his name."

"Yes, he does, and that's why I'm working with you to make sure he never has to go through the trauma of testifying in court."

0o0o0o0o0

Wrath wasn't entirely sure why he was doing this because, fast as he was, there was still a chance Gluttony could catch him. He just couldn't shake the kindness that Winry had shown him in giving him the automail, and if he were completely honest, the girl had always been good to him even when he still possessed her friend's arm and leg. Up until this point, he'd never really given her much in return. Not even a genuine "thank you." He supposed this was his way of doing so, even if she never knew it, even if she wasn't currently in the city above that he was preventing Gluttony from shaking into oblivion.

He knew that the Elric brothers were above, despite the fact that she wasn't, and Winry cared for them as much if not more than he hated them.

So, here he was, being chased through the ruins of Xerxes with an enormous, mindless homunculi on his tail. He'd have to remember to kill Anton for ever creating this thing.

"Lust dead. Brother… kill."

"Your vocabulary sucks," Wrath taunted before jumping off the roof of a building and using what was left of his abilities to mesh with the small house below and then out to the cavern's walls.

0o0o0o0

"The little brat was right," Anton mumbled to himself as he straightened his suit.

The lieutenant, who had followed him home out of concern, he supposed, that he would do something drastic to himself, looked up at him. At his age, asking to reassign all of his estate and rewrite his will would seem to imply that he was going to do something very stupid. Now that he was talking to himself, he was certain the young woman was very concerned for his mental well-being.

His hand went to the necklace he wore and he took a deep breath. "Listen, I'm going to go to visit our prisoners at Mustang's place. I haven't personally spoken to the elder Elric." At least, on paper, he was the elder Elric. It was rather obvious that Alphonse was now a bit older in physical appearance.

"Captain?" the young woman started, but he kept her from finishing her thought.

"I have left notice with the board of generals that states those who were loyal to the fuhrer, as well as those who simply worked to uphold the law. Lieutenant Pierson, you were of that latter group and the most senior officer. Should the board do what I expect it to with the information that I have provided, you may soon find yourself in a position of some authority over the JAG office." Anton began gathering alchemy supplies.

"Under you, of course, sir," she said.

"Pardon?" Anton asked, not looking up from the satchel he carried at his side.

"A position of some authority, but serving under you," she emphasized.

"Of course," Anton dismissed, though it was obvious that Lt. Pierson didn't believe him.

Anton left his apartment, waiting for the lieutenant to follow behind him. "Sir, please don't do anything hasty.

Anton just smiled and turned on the woman. "Ask your fiancé to forgive me for this," he said as he pulled the young woman close and pressed his lips to hers.

Leaving her in shock, Anton ran from his apartment building.

0o0o0o0

Al was busy cleaning up the house, as numerous things had been knocked from the walls. Some were repairable, others came out of the whole quake unscathed, but there were quite a few items in Roy's home that could not be fixed or replaced.

It was a shame, really, because it seemed that most of the things that were lost were family items. Al could see the older man putting on a brave face as he found items belonging to his father or mother broken beyond repair.

The three that could were cleaning up the rooms while Ed was tied securely to the bed in case of an aftershock. He'd had to hold onto the bars at the side of his bed with his right hand in order to keep from being slammed against them on the left side. He wasn't thrilled about the fact he was now physically bound to the bed, but realistically, he couldn't leave it on his own, anyway.

Al was busy replacing items to shelves as he saw Roy gather up a clock that had been sitting on the mantle over the living room fireplace. The young man frowned as he watched the elder. The somewhat frantic look as Roy tried to find the remaining parts said far more about the clock's meaning than the dismissive, "Well, I guess this is worthless now."

It was blatantly obvious that the clock meant a great deal to Roy, but he wouldn't admit it. He watched as Roy put it in a bin and then seemed to give up on the antique item. Al did his best to sneak behind the older man's back and grab it back. He'd ask Riza and Ed if either of them knew the significance of the item, but it was obvious, more so than others that it was important.

Once Al was satisfied he had all the parts that could be found—and there were a number that could not, he tucked them away to work on later. It wasn't completely unsalvageable, and for how cold he behaved to Roy at times in the past, he felt that it was probably due for him to do something for Roy.

There was a knock at the front door, and Al was surprised when it was followed by a somewhat less put-together Anton de Havilland.

"I need to speak with Major Elric," he said as he saw Al.

"I'll call our father and our lawyer."

"I don't think you understand that this isn't a choice. You can ask the brigadier general just what policy is, but you'll find that in cases of treason, we do not need to follow all of the rules and decorum that generally go with a court case, even with witnesses."

Al looked back at Roy, who was just entering the hall from the kitchen.

"Then, one of us will go in with you," he said.

"No," Anton said, "I'm afraid I'm going alone. And General, Lieutenant," he nodded to the woman who had exited the kitchen behind Roy, "I don't have to tell you that there is nothing you can do to stop me."

0o0o0o0

Ed was growing very frustrated being tied to the bed. He knew it wasn't truly different than before, but somehow knowing he couldn't move even if he wanted to felt more confining than knowing he could wiggle his way out, casts included. He squirmed again beneath the sheets holding him in place when he heard the door to the room open and was faced with a man with pale skin and hair nearly as white as his complexion.

"Hello, Edward," the man said. "We've never been formally introduced." It didn't matter. Ed was already well aware of the fact that the man now in his room was Anton de Havilland.

"I know who you are. You'd be surprised how well you can learn to recognize people by their voices when that is all you have."

Anton nodded, moving to the door and locking it securely.

"Come here to finish what your master didn't?" Ed spat at the lawyer.

"No," Anton said, sitting down in one of the chairs. "I do not condone what was done to you over that month. However, I am here to see the boy who, save for a few very lucky turns of fate, could very well have shared my own story. Really, you have no idea the reasons you should be grateful for Roy Mustang. He saved you long before that night at the fuhrer's mansion."

"If you know he saved me, then why did you keep pursuing this?" Ed asked, voice rising. "Why put them all through this?"

"To save myself," the blond man admitted coolly. "And out of spite. I am not above admitting that I really and truly hate you, Edward Elric. I hate Roy Mustang and I hate those I had to serve. I hate easily, you see. Love, lust, all of that gets you into trouble." He crossed his legs by resting his right ankle on his left knee. "I'm sure you understand the kind of trouble I mean." He lightly pulled on his pantleg, revealing an automail leg.

He must have noticed Ed's eyes widening in shock because a broad smirk spread across his face, bordering on becoming a sneer. "Yes, Ed. We both know the kinds of prices the Gate asks of us."

"So, what, because I didn't become a slave to the military, you're going to make me pay?"

"That was the plan originally," Anton answered.

"And what is it now?"

"To stall." Ed looked at the man curiously. "I've seen enough movies to know it's bad form for the villain—and I have no issues classifying myself as such after all I've done—to lay out his past and evil plans for the hero. Though, in this case, the hero is not so far separated from the villain.

"I'm nothing like you!" After this outburst, Ed heard the doorknob trying to turn, but just clicking against the lock. The three outside were now obviously trying to get in as they banged on the door and called into Ed's room. "You worked at Lab 5. You—"

"Put souls into suits of armor. Strangely similar to what you did to your brother. Except of course, my subjects were willing. Your brother really didn't get a say in the matter."

"You're responsible for Barry the Chopper, for the brothers..."

"I'm well aware of the fact that you encountered my handiwork. I was intended to be the scapegoat for your little escapade that so shamed the military. Thankfully, Maes Hughes provided a better distraction as he started investigating the wrong people. Otherwise, I would already be dead." The banging on the door was louder and it sounded as though they'd gotten something heavy from the other room to break it open.

"You said you were stalling. What for?" Ed asked.

"For a guest," Anton answered. "After all, there is an array preventing alchemy from being performed in this house, and I need to get you out of here without it in a way that won't alert the guards."

Suddenly, a face and body appeared from the walls of the house. "You left a message for me?" the familiar boy asked. Wrath turned and looked at Ed. "Hello, Fullmetal. Bet you never expected to see me again." His grin was somewhere between mischievous and downright evil.

"Can you do it?" Anton asked.

"You're working with him?" Ed asked the lawyer.

"From one homunculi to the next it seems," the man said.

"Yeah, I can do it. You sure you want me to?"

"No other choice, is there?"

Wrath shrugged and grabbed hold of Ed's automail wrist with his own automail hand and Anton's hand with his flesh one.

The teen screamed as he was pulled through his bed, then the floor.

0o0o0o0

By the time they got into the room, Ed and Anton were gone, and Roy and Al looked furious and distraught.

"We'll find them," Riza promised the two men. "We'll tell the guards what happened. They'll look for Ed or they'll try to find the Captain."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Once it was obvious that Ed wasn't in the room somewhere, Al stopped his search and began trying to explain to the guards and to Roy that Wrath had been there and likely used his alchemy to spirit away his older brother. Riza knew better than to doubt either of the Elric brothers by now, especially Al who was not prone to telling a few fibs here or there. However, the guards disregarded the young man's words altogether and Roy seemed to doubt them, as he continued looking, even in places where he knew Ed could not possibly be.

Realizing they would not get anywhere any time soon, she made a call to Sgt. Fuery to track down Breda and Hohenheim along with the rest of the team. The people on the outside could start the search long before it seemed anyone trapped inside the house ever could.

0o0o0o0

Being pulled through dirt and rock was not high up on the Ed's list of things to do, and he understood why, as his stomach had a lurching feeling as his automail foot finally rested on solid ground and Wrath did his best to support Ed's body.

"You'll need to brace yourself on something," de Havilland said. "Just a moment." He tapped his fingers together and then pressed two to the wall of the cave, creating a modified crutch out of the stone and clay of the earth around them.

"You bastard! Take me back! You son of a—" Ed found a hand over his mouth.

"Shut up," Wrath said, holding his automail hand firmly in place. "Gluttony's down here and he's looking for a meal. If you yell, it might as well be a dinner call."

Anton slipped the crutch beneath Ed's automail arm as Wrath released his metallic hand from Ed's mouth.

"What would it matter?" Ed asked. "You're going to kill me anyway."

"I should. I'd like to," de Havilland answered as he pulled a paper from the breast pocket in his uniform coat. Unfolding it carefully, he showed it to Ed. "Does this look at all familiar to you?"

The transmutation circle carefully drawn on the paper was definitely familiar to Ed. It was the circle that, with the body of the original person, could weaken a homunculi and force them to give up their red stones. Only, Ed noticed two strange changes.

"You don't have this right," Ed said. "If you're trying to get rid of Gluttony, there are two symbols on here that aren't correct. That sun would expel energy and—"

"I know it will," de Havilland replied. "That would be the intention. And that symbol down below, that represents sacrifice."

"You are going to kill me then," Ed said, a dread in his gut that he knew wouldn't have been there had he not found some comfort in his whatever-it-was with Roy. He would have welcomed death a few weeks before.

"You just don't get it, Fullmetal, and I doubt you ever will. Legacy means nothing to you because you have good one. You are the people's alchemist. Those who know me might know me as a good lawyer, but more than likely they hate me. All of my records will become public tomorrow, and those that didn't before most certainly will."

"You're going to pass yourself off as a hero then? Show that you saved the world from a big bad monster, but omit that you created it?"

The older man practically growled at Ed as he hastily jerked the teen along. "As I said, you of all people do not understand."

0o0o0o0

Receiving the message from Sgt. Fuery, Hohenheim found himself with two additional members of Mustang's team and a lurching feeling in his stomach. He'd not done right by his boys, but especially to Ed. He wouldn't let his son down again. He couldn't.

"How do we get down below? We don't have the kind of authority to get down into the underground city," Heymans said. Fuery was only a sergeant and the other man was a warrant officer, Falman, who had helped occasionally with their research.

"I could use alchemy. Though, it might cause a bit of attention to whatever is down below," Hohenheim said, hesitating only because his centuries of experience told him that he could very well cause more harm to his son than help.

"Or you could get someone who has the status to get down to the city," a male voice said behind him.

"Havoc, we thought you'd abandoned us for greener pastures," Heymans said.

"I do not particularly like being compared to a field or any other geological or agricultural formations," a woman said. Hohenheim thought to himself as he turned that she was a rather attractive but obviously formidable woman. She turned to her right and addressed a man behind her. "Are you coming baby brother? Or do I have to drag you?"

"Of course not," the mountain of a man said as he took up the rear. "An Armstrong never runs from battle or from older siblings. No matter how fearsome either are."

The woman turned back and rolled her eyes. "I would imagine a major general might have some authority." She briskly walked by Heymans and Hohenheim. "Come on all of you. Who knows what we might encounter below?"

"What about the chief?" Heymans asked as he tried to keep up with her.

"I spoke with someone in the JAG. She said that she had been talking with Captain de Havilland and that the dropping of all charges was in the works. I decided to put a little pressure to speed up the process and I am sure that Mustang as well as the lieutenant and the younger Elric will be out on a search for Fullmetal in under an hour." The woman moved ahead fluidly as she walked, leading the makeshift team that apparently included Hohenheim, himself.

"You know," Heymans said as they walked on, "I really don't blame you, Havoc."

The blond man gave a small smile and moved to keep his own pace enough to stay near the major general's side. There was a small part of Hohenheim that wanted to get angry at the slight tone of levity in the two men, but he knew that despite their words, they were taking the situation and Ed's safety very seriously.

0o0o0o0

"I have orders that they are to be released," a lieutenant said as she spoke to the guards who continued to search Roy's home. "They have been signed by Captain de Havilland, and as he has essentially placed me as second in command of JAG, I order that you allow these three to go free and search for the captain and Major Elric."

The woman was not overly tall, probably around Ed's height, and that reminder made Al's heart clench. His brother had been recovered once before, damaged and wounded, but alive. He was almost afraid to hope that he might find his brother again. Fate didn't turn out that way for his family. He shook his head and tried to remind himself that he was an optimist, even more so than his brother.

The lieutenant then looked up at Roy, saluting him despite the fact he was dressed in pajamas and a robe. "Brigadier General, I have reason to suspect that the captain is going to do something drastic. I hope that you will allow me to help you in your search for him and the major."

Roy nodded and shrugged off the robe, obviously not caring any more than the lieutenant that he was in plaid pajamas as he headed from the house, daring any of the guards to touch him. It was as though with the words that he was a free man, the persona of the Flame Alchemist returned. The only difference was the apparent concern in the older man's eyes for Al's brother.

Al followed as quickly behind as he could. He was surprised at the speed with which Roy was leaving the house despite appearing he was moving with a normal gait. Riza, obviously, had more experience keeping up with the older man and was at his side in a near mirror image.

"Lieutenant," Roy said as the brunette woman gave a quick jog to keep up. "Do you have any idea where the Captain may have gone or what he may have done with Ed?"

"None, sir," she answered, "but we might best start with the problems underground. The captain's behavior seemed centered around whatever was causing the quake. I would recommend we go underground."

"If he took him from the house, we'd need the closest possible entrance to the city beneath Central," Roy said.

"The sewer," Al said. "Those boys that were found came from there, so it makes sense we'd find the city that way."

"Your wound, sir," Riza said, apparently back into military mode as she looked at Roy.

"Is healed enough. We're going to the sewer. I won't live with myself if I miss saving Ed because I took the long way around."

0o0o0o0

Anton drew out the transmutation circle, with Wrath forcing Ed to stay as quiet as was possible. The blond really was sure he was going to die at Anton's hands. Well, the attorney supposed he hadn't done much to reinforce anything other than that idea in the teen's head. And yes, there was a part of Anton that wished it was Ed who would be the sacrifice today after all the misery the teen had caused him, even inadvertently.

But the sacrifice would be the one person who caused most of Anton's woes in life.

"The circle's done," he said. He went back over to Ed, who was struggling against Wrath with all the strength he had in him. It was fairly obvious that if he was at his normal health, Ed might have proven a bit of a challenge physically against the homunculus. Anton had to admit that was rather impressive.

The lawyer walked back over to Ed and fiercely grabbed the teen's jaw in his hand. "Now, listen to me. The last thing I have left is my legacy. My life from here on out is ruined because the things I did under the fuhrer have been leaked. Unlike you, I did not have a commanding officer who let little facts like putting souls in armor and human transmutation stay out of my permanent record. A quick glance through the proper files in the fuhrer's office could tell a person exactly what I did, if they knew where to look.

"So here is the deal, Mr. Elric. Gregor knows now exactly what lies in the city above. He knows there are plenty of humans, plenty of food for him to devour. From what Wrath has told me, Dante destroyed what was left of my brother's humanity, and argue what you will, but the fact that Wrath can feel sympathy for your friend Winry proves there is humanity there."

"I'm still here," Wrath reminded the lawyer, obviously tired of being spoken of as though he wasn't.

"Yes, you are. But unfortunately, you aren't the one I need at the moment. Your alchemy's been severely limited since you lost most of your redstones." Anton looked squarely at the young blond who was scowling at him. He was prepared to explain more, knowing that Fullmetal didn't trust him and for perfectly good reason. "I need you, Ed to perform this transmutation because you are a skilled alchemist, because no matter how much trouble you have been, what was done to you by the fuhrer was wrong. Completely and totally wrong."

Of course, Ed wouldn't understand why this was important, why getting rid of Gregor would mean something so important or why Dante had always been so set on keeping the otherwise mindless homunculi around for so long. Unfortunately, there was a rumbling sound in the distance.

"When my brother, or what is left of him, crosses that line, I want you to perform the transmutation no matter what."

"What about the sacrifice?" Ed asked.

"No matter what," Anton hissed. "One life or hundreds, thousands even. You decide."

Ed started to move into the circle, looking as though he'd resigned himself to not having a choice in the matter any longer.

"Not you, you blockheaded prodigy!" Anton shoved Ed back to the ground harshly and moved to the center of the circle. "Gregor! Gregor! It's your little brother! Come and find me!"

"Anton…" a growling voice said in the distance of the buried city. "Brother… Kill… Eat…"

"Come on Gregor. Come on for your last supper!" The sounds of buildings crumbling in the distance filled and echoed through the cavern. Growling echoed around and made the usually cool man shiver.

"Don't do this!" Ed yelled out. "Stop him some other way!"

"There is none! Just do the transmutation!"

"You can find forgiveness some other way, de Havilland!"

"This isn't about absolution, Fullmetal. This is about living on the only way I have left." Of course, the older man didn't speak up loud enough to be heard. Instead, he tried to find bravery somewhere hidden inside of him to remain in place as an enormous figure looming above buildings three, four stories high.

"My God, what has become of you, Gregor?"

"Brother…" The monster that had once been Gregor's double then let out a fierce, feral growl.

0o0o0o0

The cavern was dark, but not impossible to see in, as though an unnatural light kept it from being complete darkness. It had taken some convincing on Olivier's part to convince the men with her not to try to provide any kind of light. She knew that not only could it draw out whatever was there in the darkness, but that if they lost the source of light somehow, their eyes would not be accustomed to the darkness and would be moving blind.

The city—Xerxes Hohenheim called it—appeared to have been a fairly advanced city for its time. If the myths about Xerxes were true, it disappeared hundreds of years ago, and yet, it seemed at least as advanced as Amestris had been a hundred years ago.

Olivier could hear the growling and pained cries for a brother in the distance.

"That's Gluttony," Lt. Breda said. "We are fairly sure that de Havilland created him."

"That creature eats people, kills them and ingests them," Hohenheim clarified. "I believe Dante kept it around not only for its killing capacity, but also for what it could be used to make."

"You aren't suggesting that homunculus could be used to create the… the philosopher's stone?" Alex asked.

"Based upon what I've heard about the philosopher's stone, that would be a reasonable assumption," Olivier said.

"Is there any way to stop it?" Jean asked.

"We'd need a piece of the homunculi's body to begin with," Hohenheim said. "It's very likely that Captain de Havilland would have it on him as a sort of protection."

"If those kids weren't exaggerating about this thing, I know I would," Lt. Breda said.

Olivier hushed her group as they reached the mouth of the cave, not wanting to risk letting whatever it was still growling to hear any of them and head in their direction. Not yet at least.

She signaled them all with a quick wave of her hand to move onward and began the slow descent down the rock wall do the city streets below.

0o0o0o0

"Brother!" Gluttony cried as he spotted Anton. Wrath couldn't help but smirk that there was something almost Alphonse-ish in the way Gluttony did—and always had—refer to Anton.

With a loud cry, the large monster began ripping through the decrepit buildings, body leaking and spewing red liquid. As the liquid hit the ground and cooled, there was no denying what they were.

"Redstones," Ed said.

The young homunculus nodded while trying to resist the urge to gather them up and devour them just to feel strong again.

What initially looked like tails whipped back over Gluttony's main head, all turning and facing Anton, misshapen heads attached to each tail reformed, spewing more red liquid as dull teeth and malformed mouths changed to reveal feral grins and enormous fangs.

"Brother," all four faces said in unison.

Looking down at the blond man, Wrath could see the doubt on his face. It was obvious that what had seemed like a brilliant idea no longer seemed so great. There was fear apparent on Anton's face and the homunculus could almost watch the much-too-brilliant mind trying to find a way to back out, a way to go back to his old ways of running as quickly as he could to get away.

"De Havilland, get out of there! Don't be an idiot!" the younger blond yelled out, always the hero.

Gluttony's attention was now divided and Wrath wanted to seriously hurt, maim, kill Ed. Now the big lumbering fool had spotted both Ed and Wrath. "You kill Lust!"

"Damn you!" Wrath said, leaping away from the teen before Gluttony began his first strike. One of those feral mouths came after him, chasing him as he made his way into the window of a building and back out again. Wrath led the seemingly ever-growing tentacle-heads through alleys and buildings until it looped back beneath its own body. Others circled beneath to meet it, to devour Wrath, making a pair of lame human legs that dangled pointlessly beneath Gluttony's middle swing like a marionette's without a puppeteer.

Two of the heads collided while the other struggled to get around them and to Wrath.

"Is he really the one you want?!" Anton yelled. "Or is it me?! I made you and left you with Dante!"

The third mouth latched onto Wrath, but the young homunculus managed to pry himself loose, despite the enormous amount of damage done. Wrath needed time to recover, to let his body heal, and he knew it would take longer than it might have before. Thankfully, Anton's act of bravery had distracted Gluttony and brought his attention back to his creator.

"Brother! Die!" the thing said as it charged at Anton.

"Do the transmutation, Fullmetal!" Anton shouted at Ed.

Gluttony's main jaws caught hold of the lawyer's body and with a snap that seemed to echo throughout the cavernous city, his body was broken, blood spewing from his mouth, eyes growing lifeless until there was nothing. Gluttony didn't get to finish chewing his creator's lifeless form as he was now frozen to the spot by the necklace around Anton's neck.

Ed clapped his hands together, finally proving to be of some use. It really wasn't necessary for him to do the clap, but it was most likely habit. He then lowered his hands down to the dirt and stone streets, activating the circle. It glowed bright white before fading to pink and eventually the color of blood as Gluttony's body seemed to rip apart from the inside.

It was an awful sight, but there was no taking his eyes away from it, even if he wanted to as Wrath watched, still bleeding, himself, at a safe enough distance, wondering just how long it would take to heal this time because he was feeling light-headed. That at least was his excuse as to why the brilliant red light and explosion that followed sent him to the ground.

0o0o0o0

Roy staggered back against the sewer wall, holding what had been his eye and crying out in pain. He vaguely heard Al's voice as its sounds matched his own, along with a few of the guards from his home making similar noises of suffering.

"Brigadier General? Mr. Elric?"

"Roy? Al?"

He couldn't really register the owners of the voices until the pain finally stopped, as did the bright red light that had flooded everything around them He glanced back. "Are you okay, Al?"

"Fine," the young man said. "I just want to get to Brother."

Roy nodded, glad that the same perseverance that Ed possessed seemed to be a family trait. "Let's go on." Whatever had happened to his eye socket could be checked out later. At the moment, he needed to find Ed.

Reaching the end of the tunnel and coming out near the roof of a house, Roy was about to suggest they jump when Al clapped his hands together and created a bridge between the two. It seemed with his new body, he'd also found out how to use himself as a transmutation circle as his brother had always done. Roy went down first, trusting the young man's handiwork to support his weight. Reaching the building, however, it was difficult for Roy to wait for the other three rather than running off right away to try to find Ed.

"I have a strange feeling," Al said as he headed down onto the rooftop, helping Riza and the lieutenant down. "It's familiar, and not a good familiar." With everyone down from the sewage pipe, Al took off at a run, forcing the rest to keep up with him.

"What do you mean?" Roy asked him.

"It's the feeling I had when I used the philosopher's stone. It's just kind of hanging here, all through this place," Al said. He stopped at the edge of the building. "Look!" he said. "Down there. I see brother and I think it's Wrath. They aren't moving."

With another clap of his hands, Al made another addition to the structure on which they stood. From Roy's perspective, it looked like a giant slide to take them down the three stories to the ground.

"Quickest way down," Al said as he immediately got on and started going at an alarming speed to the city floor. Roy hesitated only a moment, getting a look at the lifeless body with blond hair. Not waiting another moment, he was behind Al on the long plunge down to the street and heard Riza and the lieutenant behind him.

He had to admit he was impressed with the JAG officer for keeping up with them so well.

Al reached the bottom with no problem, though Roy landed less gracefully than his younger counterpart. The two didn't waste the time to check on Riza, the lieutenant or the few stray guards who had followed them down into the sewers. Instead, both the brigadier general and the younger brother went to Ed's side.

Al was the first to reach him and scooped the smaller body into his arms. "He's lighter," he noted as he gently checked his brother's vitals. Roy was gently going over the teen's body for any sign of injury, finding that not only were there no injuries, there was no automail either.

"Al… I think…" Before Roy could finish the thought, he heard the sounds of Ed rousing from his slumber.

"Mmm… I feel like I was hit by a truck. Wha-happened?"

"Don't you remember, Brother?"

"Al, you sound funny." Ed opened his eyes and looked up at the other teen first, letting out a great whoop that echoed through the city. "You got your body back!" Almost instantly, Ed was holding his own weight and wrapping his arms around his brother, at least, as much as he could with the cast on his arm. "What the hell? Did I hurt myself again? Shit. Winry'll kill me if I busted the automail."

He looked down at his right arm to check, a broad grin spreading across his face. "Ha!" Ed laughed and smiled so easily now.

"Ed?" Roy asked tentatively.

The grin faltered a moment, but turned into the smug smirk Roy had nearly forgotten over the last few months. "Hey, Bastard, guess you can accept this as my resignation. I'm whole, Al's whole, and I'm done with the damned military."

"Brother, don't you remember anything at all?"

"No, but what does it matter? We're back to normal, Al. Was it Scar and his philosopher's stone? Or did the homunculi somehow manage—"

"I liked you better the other way," said a hoarse voice as it approached. "You were all timid and obedient."

"Wrath!" Ed jumped up, ready to fight.

"Good luck kicking my ass in two casts," Wrath said, rubbing his neck as he walked beside Riza and the lieutenant, both pointing guns at him. "How the hell do you people do this? It is difficult to breathe, my joints are stiff…"

When Roy finally got a good look at the boy, he realized what Wrath meant. He still had his automail limbs, but it seemed the blast had corrected something in him as well. Eyes once violet with slits for pupils were now blue, even in the dim light of the cavern, he could see that. Teeth were flat in all the places they should have been flat.

"Look, I'll explain everything to all of you as soon as we get to the surface, I just—"

"Al! Ed!" Several pairs of feet could be heard running near them. "Brigadier General!"

It was an unusual reunion with his team as they all seemed so grateful to see that everyone was in one piece.

The problem was, Ed genuinely looked at a loss. When Roy turned to the blond, he looked into the confused gold eyes and realized that the blast had not only given the teen back his limbs, but fixed the rape in the only way it could.

It had made him forget.

It made him forget everything.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

**Two Years Later  
**  
Roy adjusted his glasses as he walked through the halls of Central Headquarters. He passed by various lieutenants, majors, sergeants and other military personnel. All looked at him with some mix of fear and respect, but none really looked at him as a human being. It was a persona he really worked to engender while in the office. It was easier this way.

His state alchemists generally knew otherwise, as he was now freer to find some enthusiasm in their research. He could more readily support them in their endeavors and as he was a high-ranking as he could get—barring the resignation of the fuhrer, and she wasn't likely to give that up ay time soon—he had no reason to try to guide their research to his benefit. As he'd found with Ed, it wasn't necessary. On his own, Ed had shone.

His chest tightened at the thought of the young man. He heard from Al often enough, but rarely from Ed.

Reaching his destination, Roy was greeted by one of those who at least realized he was a living, breathing person.

"Heya, Chief," Jean said wit ha broad smile.

"Hello, Havoc," Roy said. "Is the fuhrer in?"

"D'you think I'd be here if she wasn't?" Jean asked. The expression on the blond's face told him the question had been a dumb one, since one was rarely without the other. "She's in her office and expecting you."

Jean opened the door and stepped inside with Roy. The blond woman behind the desk gave a smile. "Well, General, do you have your reports on the state alchemist program?"

"I do, as well as a complaint from Major Brocklehurst," Roy answered. "It is his wish that you reconsider his title of the Goose Alchemist."

"Remind the major that while I was not wearing my coat and insignia at the time, I was still clearly a member of the military and such behavior will not be tolerated. Tell him that if he should make a name for himself through exemplary acts I may reconsider it, though he should be grateful to still be a member of the military."

"And alive," Jean added as he put a paper on her desk for her to sign. His voice was calm but the threat was there all the same, though Roy wasn't sure which of the two might have killed Brocklehurst first.

"You do realize that if he makes a name for himself as the Goose Alchemist, he'll be too popular to ever change that title," Roy said.

"Really?" Fuhrer Armstrong said with a wry grin. "I'd never realized." It was quite obvious she had.

The woman's posture changed from the rigid formal pose to a more relaxed position, chin resting on her hand. "So, onto less official things. I hope you will be attending the wedding this weekend.

Roy smiled. "Of course. I wouldn't miss it regardless, but I think I should be there if for no other reason than the fact that he kept his fiancée a secret."

Roy had been more than surprised to find that the lieutenant that Anton de Havilland had all but chosen to overhaul the JAG department, who'd followed Roy, himself, down into the bowels of Xerxes, was engaged to Heymans Breda.

"Will you be attending?" Roy asked.

"She'd better be, or I'm without a date," Jean replied.

"Even with the complaints about the two heads of JAG being in a relationship?" Roy asked. It was a good blend, with Heymans bringing fresh ideas and Janine Pierson, now a captain, as a familiar face who knew the way things worked best in the department.

"They were already in a relationship long before both became heads of JAG," the woman said. "And besides, considering I'm living with my secretary, that would be a bit hypocritical of me."

Roy smiled and explained that he'd need to head back to his office to finish off the last of the issues with getting the newest state alchemists placed in their proper programs.

To his surprise, Riza was at his office door, a faint smile playing at her lips. "Sir, you have a visitor waiting in your office for you."

Roy was curious about the person on the other side of the door, for him or her to put such an expression on the woman's face. That look was something he usually only saw when Al would call the office. Even more curious were the expressions on the two men standing behind her. Both Kain and Vato looked almost expectant at what this visitor might mean.

It wasn't until Roy opened the door to find a smaller frame with blond hair long enough for a low ponytail looking out of the large, semi-circular window in his office. At hearing Roy enter the room, the young man turned his head, looking back over his shoulder.

It took Roy aback to see how tan Ed was, as his last memories were of a teenager whose skin was pale with a constant, though faint, gray tint to it.

"Hey, Bastard," Ed said casually, though the fidgeting of his hands, two very real hands, belied the teen's easy words.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Roy asked, shutting the door but knowing it wouldn't stop the three outside from knowing exactly what would happen.

"Just thought I'd rub your nose in the fact that I'm not a dog of the military anymore." Ed walked over to the sofa along the side wall. He put one arm on the armrest, the other along the back. It was an open posture so familiar to the old Ed and so unlike the one that had been wiped away in the blast. "But seriously, I think you can help me on a few things. Number one, getting my brother and Lieutenant Hawkeye—"

"Major Hawkeye. With the complete restructuring of the military, a lot of us got promoted up a few ranks."

Ed smiled. "Major Hawkeye together. Al likes her and I'm sure it's mutual."

To anyone who watched her, there was no ignoring that Riza obviously had some feelings for the younger man, but it appeared that both she and Al were in some kind of frustrating denial. When pressed on it, Riza said that it was just something that formed out of a traumatic event, adding that there was too great of an age difference. It hadn't really changed from when they first met, but it was more publicly obvious as the Gate had brought Al's appearance much closer to his actual age.

"I was actually thinking the same thing," Roy said as he went over to his desk and sat down. His hands took a steeple position, as though this was all once again old times, before the fuhrer's defeat, before he got to know a totally different Ed.

"They'll both be at the wedding, and it just seemed like the best time to get them together. Otherwise, I don't think Al will get the nerve to do it. My father has even agreed to help." That said something that Ed was willing to work on this with his father. "But we need you to help with Riza."

Roy nodded. "I'll do the best as I can." The young man smiled, but said no more. What followed was a very uncomfortable halt in the conversation.

"So…" Ed looked up at Roy, his position on the sofa looking less confident. "The glasses are new."

The general nodded. "But a step better than an eyepatch."

"So the, um, blast…"

"It gave me back my eye, even if not at 20/20 vision. As I said, it is still better than an eyepatch."

"I can imagine," Ed said. "It'd throw your depth perception off, and the last thing I'd want is someone shooting off fireballs without depth perception."

"I was getting better at it," Roy said.

"Yeah, but at least now you don't have to worry about it." The blond fidgeted a bit, jiggling the leg that was partly crossed over the other. He moved his left hand over and looked down at his nails as though they were the most interesting thing in the world. Much more interesting than the dead silence that swallowed the room whole.

Roy broke the quiet. "What else do you want from me?"

"Well," Ed said, moving so both his hands dropped and moved to his lap. "I don't know if you know what I've been doing the last two years, but I sort of worked things out with the engineering firm so that Al and I were separated there for a while. He'd tried to tell me about those two months, but I just couldn't believe it. The problem is, even though I eventually went back to working alongside him, when told him I thought it might all be a possibility, I still hadn't really believed it."

Ed looked up at Roy as though waiting for him to make some snide comment. It hurt that the young man was waiting for a jibe from him, but Roy kept his composure. He simply nodded.

"I really didn't, but then I went into a cellar when we were in RushValley on a job," Ed said. "I had a near panic attack. When I talked to Al, I was finally ready for him to tell me everything he could, but he said it wasn't much. He suggested I talk to you when I came in for Breda's wedding. He said we were close."

"You sound like you doubt that," Roy said.

"You didn't hear the way my brother said 'close.'"

The general chuckled. "Your brother's imagination might have gone a bit overboard, but yes, we were close as more than just confidants."

Ed fidgeted again, not really looking Roy in the eyes. "I thought so. I mean, I hoped not, but I kinda suspected from… other things."

Roy dropped his hands onto the desktop, slowly waiting for elaboration, both to what the "other things" were as well as why Ed had hoped that they weren't close.

"Winry and I tried to date and it didn't feel right. Any of it, and I really wanted it to because it just made sense, her and me." Even though the young man said it felt wrong, Roy couldn't stop the feeling of jealousy at those words. "Then when I tried to think about what did feel right, you came into my head." He ran a hand through his bangs and over his bound hair. "Nearly fell down from the top of building I was working on when that hit me. Then, I damned near pissed myself because it was a seven story building."

The older man chuckled, but his expression quickly became serious. "So, you want to know more of what happened during the month after your rescue?"

"I want to know everything that happened, yes," Ed said. "And everything that I told you."

"You're better off not knowing," Roy told him without hesitation, as to tell the man there was no room for argument.

"The hell I am. I tried to go in a basement, Mustang. Just a simple dark basement and I damned near curled into fetal position the minute my foot hit the concrete floor. Memories might be gone, but obviously, the emotions from that time aren't."

He looked up at Roy, gold eyes uncertain but undamaged by all that was done to him meeting Roy's obsidian ones. The older man knew he didn't want to see that lost look in the teen's eyes once again.

"I can't do that to you," Roy said. He remembered how broken Ed had been and he couldn't go back to seeing the teen as a ghost of what he was. What if the memories were only repressed, if they came back if he told him? Or worse yet, what if they came on their own? And what if Ed wasn't prepared for them when they did?

"You can't just keep those from me," Ed said. "Those were my memories, my experiences. You can't withhold two months of my life from me." He jumped up from the sofa and stormed over to the desk where Roy sat.

"And what if that was what the Gate wanted?" Roy asked. "What if the Gate wanted you to forget it all?"

"Then it would have erased everything. I wouldn't have lingering feelings. It would all be nothing." The teen looked at the General and shook his head. "You must be some kind of masochist."

"What do you mean?" Roy asked, eyebrow raised at how easily the word "masochist" had rolled off of the young man's tongue when nearly any thing sexual before or after the fuhrer would have turned the teen red.

"Keeping all these secrets from people. You kept my secrets from the fuhrer and everyone else and now even me. You must like suffering a little bit too much to be normal." Ed had his hands on his hips and was not standing so close that when Roy turned his chair to look directly up at him, he could feel the heat radiating from the younger man's body.

"You have been given a second chance, Ed," Roy said. "Take it."

"I've been given a fear of dark spaces, Roy," Ed said putting particular emphasis on the man's name. The blond was definitely trying to maintain his anger, but just the fact that he was using Roy's name was enough to make the general want to smile at this very inopportune time. "Look, if you were dealing with a kid who was afraid of the dark, would you tell them the story of why they got so afraid?"

"Only if I didn't think it would bring back the memories of what caused the fear," Roy answered back.

"Look, if I don't remember the fuhrer fucking me or Envy breaking my arm and leg from Al's description, the memory isn't coming back," Ed snapped. "I want to deal with what the hell is wrong with me and I can't do that while you're pretending you're banker to my experiences and want them locked in some kind of vault. It doesn't work that way, Mustang. I deserve to know."

"Not now," Roy said.

Like a furious little bird, Ed puffed out his chest and looked defiantly down at Roy, throwing his chin out slightly in the process. He was ready to fight now. "You can't just put me off—"

"Tonight, Ed. The last thing I want is for it to happen now. Right here at the office. It isn't going to be easy for you to hear. Or easy for me to tell."

Ed's bravado deflated and he nodded. His hands slipped into his pockets and his face softened. He really was beautiful—though the other Ed would have denied it and this one would have smacked Roy for the thought—when he let his guard down.

"Okay. Fine."

0o0o0o0

Ed looked down at the scrawled address on the paper in his hand. "And he talked about my handwriting all those years." But Ed knew that really wasn't fair. Roy's hands had practically been shaking when he wrote it. Ed might have threatened to spit on them, but his reports never made his hands shake.

There was a niggling voice at the back of his mind that questioned just what it was that made Roy's hands shudder on the scrap of paper. Was it fear of what he'd have to tell Ed or was it being around Ed because of whatever it was they'd shared? Ed swallowed; his mouth and throat were suddenly very dry.

Ed looked up at the brick house. There was an overwhelming feeling of safety when he opened the front gate and headed up the steps leading to the large but obviously unused porch. There were some ugly metal ornaments put on the house that vaguely resembled gargoyles, and it was obvious, looking at the neighbors' homes they were not appreciated. Ed smirked. This seemed like just the kind of thing he'd do if he lived in a hoity-toity neighborhood like this one.

His right hand rapped at the door. It still struck him as strange that his hand no longer made a harsh, metallic sound. That fact remained strong in his mind as he'd seen Wrath just a few days before getting a tune-up at Winry's. The little brat was getting to be a teen and growing by leaps and bounds. Not to mention the fact he always seemed to do something to his automail to require a special trip to Risembool to visit Winry for a repair. Ed wasn't blind to see that Wrath did it in order to see his mechanic just a bit more often than he might have otherwise or that he'd been considerably less hostile toward Ed since he and Winry had split up.

The door opened soon after as the older man warily looked down at Ed—though not by as much as he once had, since the Gate had corrected the automail and his growth it had stunted. "Come in," Roy said, stepping aside to let Ed into the house. The glasses were something the teen would have to get used to. The coppery oval frames worked well against the man's pale skin, Ed supposed. He just wasn't used to them being there. But when the other option was Roy missing an eye and covering half his face—Ed had seen the news photos of the man to know the type of patch he'd adopted—glasses were an improvement.

He noticed there was the faintest dusting of gray hairs now mixed with the black. Ed had found some in his own hair, which wasn't a huge surprise now that he'd accepted he'd gone through, well, what he'd gone through. He assumed the light hairs were present for the same reason in the older man.

With a small nod, the Ed stepped into the house. Again, he couldn't necessarily say he remembered it, but like before, there was the sense of familiarity.

"Did you want something to eat? To drink?" Roy asked.

Ed had shoved his hands in his pockets to avoid having them fidget as they did when he was nervous. "Do you have scotch?"

"Scotch?" There was surprise written on the man's face.

"What? I'm legal now," Ed said. "And if you hang out with construction crews and contractors, you've got to find something to drink if you don't like beer." His nose wrinkled and a frown appeared on his face. "Looks and smells like piss. It's right up there with milk for me."

"Yes, I have Scotch," Roy said. "Though some beers aren't so bad."

"You can have them," Ed said dismissing the possibility there could be a good beer in existence. As with milk, he'd made up his mind he didn't want to drink it.

Ed watched the man's hands, still so uncertain in their movements as he got their drinks ready. He resisted the part of him that wanted to just help Roy put the ice in the glasses and pour the Scotch.

Taking the glass from the older man, fingers brushed against fingers, a small, nervous smile matched another then faded as they both remembered what they were about to talk about.

"Okay then," Roy said, sitting down in the library/study. Ed had a feeling this had been his room while staying there. He could practically map out the place by memory, yet couldn't really remember having ever seen it before. "So, you want to know everything. Where would you want me to start?"

"With whatever's easiest. We can kind of work our ways to the harder stuff."

Roy nodded and as though trying to plow on ahead in nearly Ed-like fashion, began talking. He started with the events involving Anton de Havilland, though Ed knew much of this thanks to his encounters with Wrath of the last two years. He then moved on to their house arrest and confirmed it had been the library that had been converted into a sick room for Ed. His voice remained steady for much of this part of what he had to say, though he still had some anger in his voice at mention of the captain now revered in Amestris for atoning his own sins.

Still, there was no mention of the two of them together, no talk of a relationship. Even a friendship.

The young man laughed as Roy told of an embarrassing strip tease when he'd had an unfortunate reaction to his medication and how he'd feared he'd traumatized Ed after all he'd just been through.

And seemed to be an easy transition, or as close to easy as it would get, on how he found Ed and of what Ed told him.

Ed could hardly believe some of what Roy told him and a good portion more he simply didn't want to. As Roy carefully recounted details of how the former fuhrer had used and abused him, how Envy had tormented him. He had a visceral reaction more than once and actually had to vomit when hearing a story of how the homunculus had involved cutting and blood into sex.

There were a few times he thought Roy might actually leave the room as he had because it was quite obvious that just thinking about, let alone talking about, what Ed had been put through made him physically sick, but he made it through to the end.

For some time after Roy stopped, they sat, Roy looking down at the floor, Ed staring at the wall blankly.

After they'd been sitting quietly for a while, letting the scotch continue to warm their bodies, Roy finally spoke again. "I don't know if there was any more. But I swear that was all you told me."

"That's… more than enough," Ed said.

The dark head turned. "You didn't want to listen to me. I told you that—"

"I don't regret knowing, Roy," the blond told him. "I'm just trying to take it all in."

As his mind worked to process what Roy had told him, he did notice what the man _hadn't_ told him. Roy had said nothing about how "close" they were, Ed sat, watching and waiting. His mouth had once again gone painfully dry, the lingering mix of scotch and heavy mouthwash on his tongue, which was not a combination he'd recommend to anyone.

His eyes darted away when he felt the dark ones on him. Ed didn't feel any different, didn't remember any more than before. It was like being told something he'd done as a child long before he was old enough to remember it later in life. It was like, "You used to love to sit on your father's shoulder, Ed." Only, this time it was, "You were raped and tortured so severely that we thought you'd never come back to us."

"I shouldn't have told you all this," Roy said, downing what had to be his fourth glass of Scotch, though he could have gotten another one while Ed was running to the bathroom.

"No," Ed told the man. Again. "I'm glad you did. I don't remember any more than I did before, but I feel better for knowing." He looked up and saw a tear on the older man's cheek. He'd never expected for Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, gift to all women—and apparently men also—would cry for him. Cry at all, really.

"Mustang?" There was no response. "Roy?" This time, there was. Dark eyes looked up at him and Ed felt it was time to take the alcohol away. "I really am glad you told me." His hand reached out for the small glass that held only ice now. Taking it, he placed it on a table nearby.

He had hoped he was wrong, certain that Roy would hurt him because what had passed between them must have been pity, but it seemed that right now, the blond wasn't the one who was in pain. Ed's loss of memory hurt Roy, and the older man had been more than confidante. Whatever had passed between them, whatever it was that Roy still wouldn't talk about, it wasn't just some kind of empathy for Ed.

And Ed's feelings were not just leftovers of memories long gone. That realization was nearly as surprising as when he'd realized they existed in the first place.

"So, what… what happened between us?"

"We talked."

"Did more than talked, I think," Ed said.

"We comforted one another," Roy said.

With a faint growl, Ed looked at him. "I know we did more than that. You all but said so yourself."

He watched as the older man took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "A few kisses. That's all."

Ed nodded and moved just a bit closer to the older man, unconsciously. There was a brief moment of silence as he worked to get up the nerve to ask his next question. "And would you like to start again? I mean, is that something you'd really want if it could happen?"

Roy looked over at Ed, and though the teen was certain that the man might not have been so quick to answer if there had been a little less alcohol in his system, the dark head bobbed once in a nod.

Moving again, consciously this time, he pressed his leg to Roy's so they were now sitting side by side and reached a hand over to the older man's cheek before leaning in for a quick, very chaste kiss. He smirked as he saw Roy's dark eyes grow impossibly wide, highlighting the faint remainder of scarring on the eyelid and cheekbone.

"Like I said. I figured out you felt right, even without all of that history or the feelings of obligation because you helped me through everything. Winry didn't feel right. Even when I tried thinking of anyone else, it didn't either. So… is there any need for freelance alchemists here in Central? Because I think I'd like to stick around for a bit, and I'm hoping to keep Al here too once we get it through his thick skull that he and Riza should be together."

"I think something can be arranged," the older man said. He smiled a smile went all the way up to his eyes and lit up the pale face. Ed secretly hoped that he'd see that a bit more often because it was beautiful.

**The End**


End file.
